Chances Are Slim to None
by MadMissMim
Summary: Fall is in full swing, and that means it's time for the Fall Charity Festival at Central University. Ed and crew have their hands full gearing up for the festivities and studying for finals, so who has time to notice somebody watching from the shadows? Sequel to "What Are The Chances" (RoyXEd, College AU, rated M for Ed's potty mouth and some mature situations)
1. Festivals, Physics, and Penguins

**A/N:** Okay, so I know that I said that I probably wouldn't be able to post the sequel until after Christmas, but I wound up with a little extra time to work on it. It's the same college AU as the last one, same characters with a few OC's thrown in for flavor and maybe a few not-yet-introduced familiar faces too. So, a few things to note about this one: Firstly, just like the first story, I've molded these characters like putty to fit my own cracked notions, but it's all in good fun, so just roll with the OOC bits, please; Secondly, unlike the first story - which was entirely Roy's POV - this one switches POV's. It doesn't happen randomly and there are no indicators, but I still make it obvious so I'm pretty sure nobody's gonna get lost; Thirdly, this one may get a little more angsty than the last one **;** Fourthly and finally, there will be some trigger warnings popping up in later chapters, so keep an eye on those. I should probably also mention that updates will be a bit sporadic. My move date was pushed back, but I am still in the process of moving, so, basically my whole life has devolved into an unending string of chaos and cardboard boxes (and the two damn cats who think those boxes are there for their amusement - cat stew is sounding tastier by the day). More than half of my damn books are packed, so I'm restricted to Google only for my research, and I only have my little French press to make coffee with since the coffee machine is packed too (life has turned very ugly).

This first chapter is basically intros, recaps, and epilogue from the first story. I did this so that this story can be taken as a stand-alone work or as the sequel it's intended to be. So, for those who read the first story, the recaps will at least give you a glimpse of Ed's take on last story's debacles, and the epilogue bits will fill in what happened after all was said and done. There'll be more "what happened next" stuff peppered in other chapters, but most of the salient points are covered in Chapters 1 and 2 (I think). The intros, of course, are for new readers who didn't read the first story, but there are new opinions and such that I hope will keep returning readers amused. Thus ends the world's longest damn author's note.

 **Disclaimer: Yeah, sort of obvious, but I don't own FMA or any of its characters. I'm just a shameless invader pillaging the genius of others for my own jollies.**

Chapter 1

 _Festivals, Physics, and Penguins_

"Ladies and gentleman – of course, using those terms as _loosely_ as humanly possible," said Edward Elric to his gathering class. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he sounded as exhausted as he felt, and no lame attempts at humor could cover that up. Between working in his lab, his part-time job at the nearby diner, and both teaching and attending classes he was completely worn out. And now, Central University's new administrators had seen fit to add a few more side dishes to his already over-full plate. He could still remember the argument he'd just finished losing against his boss, the university's recently hired dean.

 _"I'm sorry Mr. Elric, but participation this year is mandatory for_ all _faculty," said Dean Grand, his deep voice causing his mustache to vibrate in a way that would be funny if Ed wasn't so pissed. "I understand you got out of it last year when you were asked to sit on the committee, using your research as an excuse. This year there will be no excuses."_

 _"That wasn't an excuse. I have two jobs, plus my research, plus attending classes. I don't have time for this, and even if I did, I'd rather nail my dick to a board covered in barbed wire than participate," growled Ed. "Read the bio, dude. I'm the 'broody antisocial genius' type, not the 'friendly socially acceptable participation' type."_

 _"And look where that's gotten you," said Grand dryly. "You're twenty-two years old Elric, but you don't drink, don't smoke, don't date, and don't go anywhere besides work and school – and most of your work_ is _at school. You're here so much I don't know if I should give you a paycheck or charge you rent. Elric, I hate to break it to you, but you need a life."_

 _"This is why nobody likes you," growled Ed angrily._

 _"Nonsense, I'll have you know I'm very well liked," said Grand with a facsimile of a personable smile that fooled no one._

 _"Yeah right," snorted Ed. "Maybe in Antarctica where it's just you and the penguins. I bet the penguins don't like you either."_

Ed supposed he should just count himself lucky that he hadn't gotten fired yet. He and the new dean butted heads often. Actually, if he didn't know any better, he'd think that the new dean enjoyed their verbal fencing. Hell only knew he pissed Ed off enough that Ed couldn't help but wonder if he was doing it on purpose. Or maybe Ed was just a little too on edge.

Due to unforeseeable circumstances, he'd ended up moving in with his boyfriend, fellow PhD candidate Roy Mustang. That sexy bastard was surely too good to be true. He was gorgeous, with coal black hair and dark, bottomless almond-shaped eyes set in a moon-pale face. He had a smile that could drop panties at 100 yards, and on top of that he was a brilliant scientist and a smooth talker to boot. The fact that he was good in bed too was a definite bonus. It was actually pretty ridiculous how ostensibly perfect that bastard was. However, Ed also knew the man's flaws, had noted all of his insecurities and idiosyncrasies. All the things Roy never dared show anyone else, he had granted Ed the privilege of viewing. Having that sort of full access to someone who was usually so guarded was a heady experience.

"It's that time of year again, kiddies," Ed told his class with all the enthusiasm of announcing the dissemination of a new plague. "It's time for the Fall Charity Festival. Yay." He said in a flat lifeless tone. "This year things will be a little different. For one, _all_ the faculty and staff have to participate, and that includes me. For another thing, student participation will warrant bonus points in the class of your choice. If any of you are not sure whether you need the bonus points, come see me, and I can give you your current grade as of today. Those of you who I _know_ badly need the points, I will speak with after class. The list of events, booths, and other odd jobs that need warm bodies to fill them will be placed on the board by the door. The sign-up sheet will be by my office door, or you can come talk to me and I'll put your name down. As you know, if I'm not in my office, classrooms, or lecture halls then I don't like any of you enough to act like I know you anywhere else . . . but I guess, I'll make an exception for festival sign-up. I'm usually in the lab if I'm not in my office or class. If you don't have access to the lab building – which I know most of you jokers _don't_ – ask the security guard to call me. He already knows what's what, so he won't argue.

"Now that all that shit's out of the way, let's get on with the learning. As you know we're creeping closer to semester finals, so we've got to finish cramming all this crap in your spongy little brains," segued Ed with a villainous grin, and the students all groaned as one. "So, let's talk entropy . . ."

When class was over, Ed headed toward the Science Department's lab building where his own lab was located, as was Roy's. Ed was in the middle of salvaging the research he had been doing for his doctoral thesis after his lab and office had been trashed by a shady corporation's pet thugs. That break-in had been the start of a ginormous snowball of events that ultimately turned his life upside down. One moment he's despairing over his stolen research notes the and all of his damaged equipment – which wasn't just a setback, it was a whole fucking reset back to the beginning – and the next he was dealing with the return of his estranged father, saving the aforementioned useless sperm donor from a ruthless corporation, preventing the development of a new weapon of mass destruction, rescuing unwilling human experiments, and taking down the questionable corporation's even more questionable CEO just to add a cherry on top. And through it all, Roy and his friends had been right there, helping him and encouraging him and fighting alongside him. He had a lot to be grateful to Roy for, and, though he'd probably never say it out loud, he was glad he'd met the man.

During the process of dealing with that nightmare corporation – Ouroboros, whose money was made by the design and sale of weapons and was maintained by the harassing, kidnapping, and murder of innocent people – and their myriad goons, Ed and his brother Al had been forced to stay with Roy for safety reasons. Not that the brothers weren't badass fighters, but the police had insisted and Roy had been only too happy to offer. He had a fairly large house that had been left to him by his deceased parents, so he had plenty of room to spare. When the mess was done, and the corporation was no longer a threat, Roy had asked Ed to continue staying with him. He wanted Ed to live with him on a more long-term basis. He didn't even mind the fact that the brothers were a package deal. Where Ed went Al followed, and vice versa. Or, at least, that's how it used to be . . .

With the return of the father that had abandoned them as children, Alphonse had decided he wanted to take this opportunity to get to know dear old dad. Ed, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the bastard. Van Hohenheim had left while they were still mostly in diapers, and hadn't even bothered to come back for their mother's funeral or to take over the care of his sons when their mother died. They hadn't even been adolescents yet, but that bastard had left them swinging in the wind without even bothering to make sure they didn't end up in the foster care system – or worse. They weren't even using the man's last name anymore, having changed it to their mother's maiden name when Edward was 12 and Alphonse 11. Needless to say, Ed, who couldn't even call the man "father" without wanting to spit, _did not_ want to be in the same room with the man let alone live with him.

So, when Roy offered to have Ed move in with him, Al had stayed behind in the crappy apartment the brothers had previously shared, their father moving into Ed's old room. And, just like that, for the first time in their lives, Edward and Alphonse Elric lived apart. Ed was not pleased. He'd given everything to keep his little brother safe, to make sure he had a good life where he was free to follow his dreams and find happiness. He'd even lost his right arm and left leg protecting his brother in the car accident that had killed their mother. Now, he worked two jobs despite the fact that he was attending classes and working on completing the research for his doctorate, all just so Al could go to med school and make something of himself. Now that Al was no longer living with him, Ed hardly saw him anymore, and without him there, Ed . . . just didn't know what to do with himself. His whole world had revolved around his baby brother since they were little, so now he was left rudderless and lost, drifting along with nothing to anchor him. It felt like losing his limbs all over again. And, just like when he'd lost his limbs, it fucking hurt.

"What's with the sad face, love?" asked Roy, startling Ed out of his downward spiraling thoughts. Ed groaned and all but dove into Roy's arms, burying his face in his lover's chest and savoring the warmth of the arms wrapping around him. He didn't normally like people touching him, but for some reason he always felt so safe in Roy's arms, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the peace of his embrace. "What's wrong, beautiful? Rough day?"

"That would be the understatement of the fucking century," replied Ed, his voice muffled by Roy's coat. "I need sugar – lots and lots of sugar. Maybe cake or something. I don't know."

"Comfort food, hm? Well, then how about we hit that café for lunch? Then we can stop at the bakery next door afterwards and I can spring for a bag of goodies for you," offered Roy kindly. Damn if this man wasn't the awesomest of awesome people.

"Thanks," said Ed, finally looking up and gladly accepting the kiss Roy gave him. There wasn't anything he liked more than kissing Roy – accept maybe coffee. But then, coffee was his lifeblood, more a necessity to living than an idle indulgence. He was pretty sure, if someone took his coffee away, he'd shrivel up into a vague caricature of his former glory. In fact, he was entirely certain that coffee was responsible for nearly all of his most brilliant scientific breakthroughs – well, coffee and _boredom_ , but why quibble?

"By the way, my team wanted to get together tonight to study for finals," added Roy as they walked the brief distance from Central University to the Copper Coffee Pot Café – the name of the place an obscure reference to an obscure song that never failed to get a giggle out of Ed every time he heard it. "I told them I'd check with you if it was cool to have them come to our place, since we have the most space. So, what do you think?"

"Sure, I guess that's cool," said Ed with a shrug, ignoring the weird tinge of discomfort in his belly whenever he heard the house referred to as _theirs_ instead of _Roy's_. Living with someone not Al was going to take a lot of getting used to. Thankfully, Roy was being very patient with him and very respectful of his boundaries. "But we don't have much in the way of food. We needed to hit the grocery store, like, two days ago."

"Do you want me to go by the store before heading home?" asked Roy, but Ed shook his head with a sigh.

"Nah, I got it. I haven't got the list written down, just memorized. It's easier if I just do it myself," said Ed with a dismissive wave. "How many am I cooking for tonight?"

"Hmm, I think just the crew from the lab," replied Roy with a shrug. "Though Jean mentioned stopping by to beg you for more tutoring."

"Fine, if you see the idiot chain smoker before I do, tell him I'm cool to tutor him, but he better count himself lucky he's your friend. I usually get paid for tutoring, and my fees ain't cheap," huffed Ed, but though he acted like he was annoyed, he secretly didn't really mind. He liked hanging out with Roy's crew, and Roy's crew all adored Ed and treated him like their very own little brother. It was nice, feeling so readily accepted.

"You could always take it out of him in trade," suggested Roy, and at Ed's appalled look the older man laughed. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant make him help you out. I know you need a lab assistant to help you put your lab back together. And what safer lab assistant than one who can't read the research to steal it and is so adamantly straight you know for certain he won't be looking at your ass the whole time. Plus, since he's a jock, he'll be able to handle the heavy lifting so you won't have to."

"Slave labor, hm?" said Ed, thinking it over. "Ma~ybe. We'll see."

They arrived at the café and, after placing their order at the counter, found their favorite table by the window. It was their favorite table for two different reasons, one reason for each. Ed liked it because it got the most sun, and he had always enjoyed sitting in the sunlight, especially in the winter when every iota of warmth was a precious commodity. Roy liked it because it had a great view of the street and made for a perfect people-watching perch. Really, Roy liked any of the tables by the window, but because this one in particular had Ed's seal of approval, the table's status grew higher in his esteem.

"So, tell me what's making your day so long, love," said Roy as they sat down to wait for their food. "Is it the new dean again?"

"Yes and no," replied Ed, letting his head drop so that his forehead was planted on the tabletop with a dull thunk. "He's made it mandatory for all members of faculty and staff to participate in the Fall Charity Festival this year."

"And I know the teachers were telling us today that we'll get extra credit for participating, which probably just makes more work for you teachers," said Roy, looking at Ed contemplatively. "What's so bad about participating in the festival though?"

"Um, Roy, did you just seriously ask me that question?" demanded Ed in a flat tone.

"Ah, yes, I see your point," said Roy, chagrined. Roy was a very social creature by nature, but, conversely, Ed was severely _anti_ social. Ed was fine with having just a handful of close friends and a few tolerable acquaintances, and to be perfectly honest, the only person he'd ever truly trusted besides his late mom was his brother Al. Roy, on the other hand, seemed to be friends with just about everybody, though there were only a handful that he considered close enough to give his trust to. Of course Roy, the people person, would love the festival and probably have a blast participating. Ed . . . not so much – a fact which Roy should be very well aware of by now. "Did you explain to him about your workload? I mean, he can't honestly expect you to take on anything else given how hard you work already."

"I told him," whined Ed miserably. "He basically told me to suck it up."

"Any idea what event or booth you'll be running?" asked Roy, running a gentle hand through Ed's fringe. As those soft fingers reached his temple Ed leaned into the touch, savoring the contact and the comfort it gave him.

"Nah, there's another faculty meeting tomorrow for tenured faculty and full-time staff, and they'll assign the events and booths during that meeting. Part-timers and student teachers aren't required to show to the meeting, but you bet your ass those of us who don't want to find out too late that they've gotten some super shitty assignment because they weren't there to defend themselves will be at that fucking meeting with bells on. I don't care if it _is_ at 6 o'clock in the fucking morning. I'm gonna be there, even if I have to drive myself." It was a known fact that Ed was absolutely terrified of riding in cars to the point that it could be considered a full-on phobia. It was a car accident, after all, that had killed Ed's mom and taken his right arm and left leg from him. It had almost taken his baby brother too, having left the younger Elric in a coma for two agonizing years. So, yeah, needless to say, Ed was most definitely not a fan of cars. Riding the bus was fine. He could even handle riding in large vans. But cars? Not even a little bit. So, if he said he was willing to _drive himself_ it was a pretty good indication of the depth of his resolve.

"I'll make sure you get up on time, and I'll take you there myself," offered Roy – _bless him_. "One way or another, we'll make sure you're there to curtail any shenanigans. As soon as I get home I'll set the timer on the coffee maker so that the coffee is ready when you get up."

"If you're trying to get into my pants Mustang, it's totally working," said Ed with a grin, and Roy laughed. He had a great laugh. Like his voice, his laughter was rich and deep, seeming to vibrate from some hidden depth in his chest. Ed could spend all day just listening to Roy talk and never get tired of it, and the sound of his laughter always set a small blaze of heat in the pit of Ed's stomach. _Damn, I've got it bad. It's all his fault for being so fucking hot! Where's the justice?_

"If I had known it was that easy to bribe you into my bed, I'd have done it the first day we met," said Roy archly, waggling his eyebrows. Ed couldn't help but laugh at that, a now-familiar warmth spreading through his chest at Roy's reaction to Ed's laughter. For some reason, every time Ed laughed, Roy's dark eyes would light up like he'd just been given a Porsche for Christmas. Ed didn't really get it, but then Roy did a lot of things Ed didn't entirely understand. Mysteries of the universe were easy for him to figure out, but mysteries of the human heart were way over his head. "Other than dealing with Professor Grand, how has your day been?"

Ed proceeded to recount for Roy the tales of the many foibles of his students in the class he affectionately – _not at all_ – dubbed Idiot Physics. It was a physics class for kids who weren't actually majoring in a science. Physics 100, or Intro to Physics, was considered a general studies course, good only for fulfilling the necessary science credits to complete general studies requirements for other degrees. Sometimes, freshman from the science department would take the class as a prerequisite, but that was pretty rare – unfortunately.

After lunch, Ed had a class to attend, and after that he had to spend a set amount of time in his office in case the students or faculty needed to speak with him. All the faculty members were required to have office hours, even the student teachers like Ed. Well, actually, especially Ed. Because although Ed was a student teacher, he was also considered full faculty because he more than fulfilled the requirements for the position – he already had two degrees, after all, and was working on his third. He had been attending Central University since he was 16, and he was 22 now, so he was practically a fixture at Central U. Not to mention the fact that the school shamelessly traded on his reputation for brilliant breakthroughs in order to milk donations out of their alumni and trustees.

Honestly, Ed could probably murder someone in the middle of one of his lectures and the school would bend over backwards to cover it up for him – and it wasn't just because of his reputation or qualifications, either. A large part of that was because of the previous dean's bad behavior. Not only had the wrinkled old pervert propositioned Ed – as well as a number of other students – he had embezzled Ed's scholarship money on top of conning money out of the pharma bigwigs, Amestris Pharmaceuticals, that funded Ed's research. After looking into the matter, Ed had discovered that not only had he not been the only victim of the embezzlement, but the dean wasn't the only embezzler. More than a dozen university employees had been fired or arrested thanks to all that, not to mention the handful of Amestris employees who had been in on the scheme. The head of Amestris, Grumman, was a cool old guy and treated Ed like he was his very own grandson. As soon as he'd gotten wind of the embezzlement and attempted extortion, he'd gone on the warpath. It was his lawyers and money that had made sure that the previous dean had received the maximum penalty the law would allow. Ed had adored the old man before all that, and now he all but considered the old guy family.

Speaking of the old man . . . Ed pulled out his phone and found Grumman's number in his contacts list then hit the call button. "Edward! How are you kid?" greeted the old man cheerfully.

"I'm alive, but anything more than that is asking too fucking much," said Ed with a sigh. "But I gotta ask you something. Do you think it would be cool if I got somebody to help me out putting my lab back together? I know my research for you guys is supposed to be super hush hush and all, but I've got finals coming up and now the new dean's added some more shit to my plate. I need help – badly."

"I take it you already have somebody in mind," said Grumman, sounding as amused as always.

"Yeah," replied Ed, his tone implying a shrug. "He's somebody who owes me a favor. He's a jock and not the brightest crayon in the box, academically, so there's no chance of him being able to steal my research. Plus, he's proven his loyalty. He was one of the guys in on the Ouroboros thing. In fact, you met him during one of our little powwows about that. Jean Havoc ring any bells?"

"Yeah! I remember him," said Grumman, chuckling. "He seemed like a good guy. Sure, I don't have a problem with him helping you out. Though, if you really need some help, I'd be more than happy to hire you a real lab assistant. I know there are plenty of bright young people at that university of yours that would be over the moon if they were given a chance to work with you."

"Hell nah," said Ed emphatically. "I don't need to be tripping over somebody else's dick. This is my sandbox, and I don't play well with others."

"Well, if you change your mind, just let me know," said Grumman, chuckling again. "I'll even create a candidate list just in case. It's always best to be prepared."

"Do you know something I don't know, you old fart?" asked Ed in a low growl. He knew that tone in Grumman's voice. He knew it all too well. That was the tone he got when he was already three moves ahead of his opponent and was just waiting for his opponent to realize it too.

"It's nothing like that, Edward," scoffed the old man lightly. "I just happen to know that between finals, work, and the festival you won't have much time for your lab work, and having to practically rebuild your lab from scratch is going to put you behind schedule. I fear you will need to call in help sooner rather than later if you ever want your PhD. It's just that simple. So, keep that bug in the back of your mind, and if you start to feel overwhelmed, give me a call and we'll set up interviews for assistants."

"All right, old man, I'll think about it, but I'm not promising anything more than that," said Ed grudgingly. "I'll talk at you later, old fart."

"Talk to you soon impudent brat," replied Grumman affectionately, and Ed chuckled to himself as he hung up the phone.

As soon as he was free to leave, he gathered up his stuff and shrugged on his tattered pea coat over his red hoodie, pulling the hood out to rest over the top of the collar. After buttoning his coat, he shouldered his laptop bag, positioning the strap across his body, and headed out into the autumn chill. He hated cold weather. He'd loved it as a kid, but now that he had the automail to worry about, cold weather was pure torture. As soon as the metal of his ports began to chill, his whole body would lose all heat a minute later. That was the major drawback of having metal attached to skin, muscle, and bone. Metal grew so very much colder than the human body, and the human body tended to protest being touched by cold metal. During the coldest part of winter, he usually felt like a cryogenics experiment ten minutes after leaving the house. And just to add insult to injury, if his ports got too cold they could cause frostbite in the skin they were attached to and caused the bones that anchored the prosthetics to ache so bad it made his teeth clench just remembering.

By the time Ed reached the grocery store, he was already so cold his teeth were chattering, and he had to run into the store's bathroom so he could apply disposable hot packs to his ports before he could warm up. Since he had lost his right arm up to the shoulder, the anchoring plates covered his entire shoulder, part of his right clavicle, part of his right pectoral, and part of his right scapula. His leg he had lost to just above the knee, so the anchoring plates for the leg port covered his leg up to mid-thigh. This meant that all that cold metal was located very close to his body's core – and his a little too close to his _groin_ – making it very essential that he mind the temperature of his ports and limbs. It would be entirely too easy for him to get hypothermia – and he really didn't want frostbite on his manly bits either.

Once he was finally warm enough that he felt like he was no longer morphing into Frosty the Snowman, Ed ventured back out into the store and found a cart. He wandered the aisles of the store systematically, adding items to the cart as he went. He had to be careful not to buy more than he could comfortably carry. It was going to be a long, cold walk to the house as it was without an overabundance of groceries slowing him down. That was when he saw him . . . someone it shouldn't have been possible to see . . . someone who shouldn't be there . . . who _couldn't_ be there . . . But then he was gone again before Ed could get a proper look to confirm that he'd seen who he thought he'd seen.

Feeling his heart stutter to a stop in his chest before promptly dropping into the pit of his stomach, Ed began to shake from head to toe. His breathing grew quicker until he was all but panting, unable to move from the spot and not daring to close his widened eyes long enough to blink. _How the fuck is he here?_ ran through his head over and over again, and the lack of an answer mocked him, dared him to deny what he'd seen. Almost on autopilot, Ed pulled his phone out of his pocket and called his brother.

"Al," Ed said, his voice shaky and thick. Hearing that tone, Al stopped mid-greeting. "Al, I think I just saw a ghost . . ."


	2. Appeasing Vengeful Gods

**A/N:** All right, here's chapter 2. There's some fairly raunchy humor in this one, but it's not entirely my fault. Ok, I lie. It totally is. It's based on some random crap that popped out of my mouth one day when I was sitting at the diner with my friends. I'd had entirely too much coffee and too little sleep, which always leads me to say weird random crap the most famous of which being when I told someone I wanted to club him like a baby seal. I was horrified. He was horrified. Everybody else died from laughing too hard. I have a thing for the etymology (study of the origin of words) of slang terms, and that's what gave birth to the conversation about the word "gay". You'll understand when you get there.

 **Disclaimer: Yeah, sort of obvious, but I don't own FMA or any of its characters. I'm just a shameless invader pillaging the genius of others for my own jollies.**

 **Chapter 2**

 _Appeasing Vengeful Gods_

Roy laughed along with his friends, enjoying the easy companionship between them as they traded jibes and stories around the coffee table. The ready humor and relaxed atmosphere between them made his old friends great company but lousy study buddies. Really, they were a little _too_ relaxed when they should be focusing on their work. They'd all fallen behind thanks to the Ouroboros fiasco, and they had a lot of lost time to make up for if they were going to pass their semester finals. Some of them would be all right, scraping by with a B or so, but not all of them would be able to fake it well enough to save themselves. They needed to get to work.

Some of his companions, Roy had known since high school. Heymans Breda had been on the football team with Roy. He had always been just as round in the middle as he was now, and he had always had the same particolored hair – though, contrary to popular belief, the man had never once dyed or bleached his hair. It was naturally darker at the roots than at the tips, so with his hair cut the way it was, it made him look as if he had only dyed the top red and left the rest brown. Jean Havoc, with his athletic build, blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, had also been on the football team. In fact, he was attending college now on a football scholarship. Kain Fuery had been on the debate team with Roy. He was small – almost as short and slender as Ed – not that Roy would ever say that to Ed's face. Roy liked his internal organs right where they were, thanks. Kain had black hair, and his dark eyes were mostly hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. He was the cheeriest of their group, and always had an optimistic and innocent air about him, a sort of impenetrable naivety. The last member of their little study group, Vato Falman, hadn't joined their group until they'd started at Central U, but they'd become almost instant friends. His prematurely gray hair, eyes that were too small for his sharp-boned face, and perpetually bland, serious expression made him seem like the oldest of their group, but he was actually the same age as the rest of them.

Roy had two more friends that would be joining them later – his childhood friends Riza Hawkeye and Maes Hughes. Riza was a blonde bombshell with brown eyes the color of fine red wine, but her expression was all but lifeless. It made many feel that she was too cold to approach. Roy knew better. Underneath that cold shell was a very warm individual and very loyal friend. Maes Hughes was, in a word, insane. He had dark hair and bright green eyes behind rectangular framed glasses and had stubble that Roy was hard-pressed to remember him ever being without. Maes was exuberant enough to more than balance Riza's calm. He had a wife and daughter – Gracia and Elysia – who he lavished affection on, and he always carried dozens upon dozens of pictures of them wherever he went, showing them to friends and strangers alike – whether they wanted to see them or not. He was like a photographic terrorist, actually. So far, Ed was the only person Roy had ever met besides Gracia who seemed able to tame Maes's mania. Roy just hoped that Ed got there before Maes did, or the only thing they'd be studying would be the newest pictures of Gracia and Elysia.

Roy's cell phone rang, interrupting the joke Breda had been telling, and Roy excused himself so he could take the call. He was surprised to hear Al's ringtone, and the younger Elric was probably calling because he couldn't reach Ed. No doubt Ed was already loaded down with grocery bags and on his way home, therefore unable to answer his phone. The boys had been through enough terrifying events in their lives that neither of them took unanswered phone calls lightly. There had been too many instances where an unanswered call had meant trouble. "Hey, Al, what's up?" greeted Roy.

"Hi, Roy, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need you to please hurry over to the grocery store and pick up my brother," said Al, sounding extremely uneasy. "I just got off the phone with him and he sounds like he's about to have a panic attack. You're closer than I am or I'd go myself. Just pick him up please, and I'll be at your place as quickly as I can be."

"All right, sure, no problem," said Roy, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. He was already moving toward the door, phone still in his hand. On his way through the house, he called to his guests that he was picking up Ed and would be back in a few minutes. Once he got outside, he asked Al, "So, what happened?"

"He thought he saw somebody who is supposed to still be locked up," answered Alphonse uncomfortably. "It's taken us five years to get Ed over what happened. And I don't even know if he really saw who he thought he saw, but I fully intend to investigate it. If he's just hallucinating then clearly he's under far too much stress right now. It's a sign that he's backsliding. If he really saw this guy then we'll need to contact the police and arrange for Ed's protection. I'll explain more when I get there, and Ed might be willing to tell you some of it. But you know how Brother is, so probably you'll have to hear the story from me."

"Maes is coming over later, and Breda is already at the house. If there's investigating to be done, you know there's none better to help you with it," offered Roy. Breda had a knack for keeping his ear to the ground and always being able to sift through whispers to discern fact from rumor. Data analysis was his specialty, and he was good at applying it to people as well as physics. Maes was the man to go to when you wanted to know something others were trying to hide. There was no such thing as a secret with Maes Hughes around.

"Awesome, that will definitely help," said Al, sounding a little relieved. "I'll see you in a little while. Call me if anything changes before then."

"Roger that," replied Roy, and the pair hung up. As soon as Roy realized how bitterly cold it was outside, he was doubly glad to be picking up Ed. The last thing Edward needed was to be walking home in the cold with armfuls of groceries. If this weird crisis hadn't popped up, Ed never would have thought to call and ask for a ride. It wasn't just because of his hatred of cars. It was because of his pride.

It didn't take Roy long to reach the grocery store, and when he got there he texted Ed to find out where in the store he was. Ed texted back that he was in the foreign foods section, so Roy headed over to meet him. Edward was wearing his usual red hoodie underneath his old black pea coat, and he had the hood pulled up to give him some anonymity. On such a cold autumn night, nobody would think too hard about why he had his hood up, and it would serve to cover his very conspicuous hair. Ed's coloring was somewhat unique. True, there were plenty of other blondes in the world, but Roy had never seen anyone with hair such a vivid tone before. Ed's hair was a silken cascade of burnished gold, his eyes the same vibrant shade of gold as his hair. Even his skin was gold, albeit a muted, pale gold, like sunlight seen through a foggy haze. Add his unique coloring to the fact that every muscle in his small frame was toned and sculpted to perfection, and one could honestly call Edward a work of art.

"Hey there, gorgeous, got everything you need?" asked Roy as he approached, making sure that Ed could hear him before he got close. Ed had a fighter's instincts, and if he was as panicked as Al had suggested, Roy didn't want to startle him and end up with a fist in his face. He'd seen enough people get hit by that fist to know that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of it. Ed looked up, and his eyes were wide as saucers and face even paler than usual. He didn't seem to recognize Roy at first, but after a long moment of waiting during which Roy held his breath and moved no closer, recognition flashed across Ed's eyes followed by a flood of relief. Roy finally closed the distance between them, folding Ed into his arms without a second thought. "Come on, love. We've got a houseful of guests, and no chef to feed the hungry heathens. Apparently my cooking isn't good enough for them anymore. They insist that only your cooking will do."

"Maybe we should start charging them whenever they come over to mooch food off of us," said Ed, his voice a little shaky but close enough to normal that Roy decided not to call him on it.

"Then they'd just dine and dash," pointed out Roy, and Ed let out a short laugh. "Not that Breda couldn't use the exercise." That got a truer laugh from him, and Roy couldn't help but smile to himself. There would be time enough to address what happened once he had Ed home safe. In the meantime, they went through the checkout line then carried the groceries out to the car. Ed got in, though he looked like he'd rather chew broken glass. Then something odd happened. When he got into the car, he immediately checked the backseat, using the screen of his crappy cell phone like a flashlight. When he saw nothing there except the usual mess of fast food wrappers and paper coffee cups, he deflated as if relieved. Putting his phone away, he pulled on his seat belt and tried to look like nothing had happened. He should've known better. Like him, Roy was a scientist. Curiosity was second nature. "Love, when Al called me, he said that you thought you spotted somebody who was supposed to be in jail. Now, I've seen you face down criminals, evil masterminds, rogue mercenaries, enraged professors, and snotty police officers, but not a single one of them has ever induced panic in you – not to my knowledge, anyway. Sure, I've seen you freak out about hospitals, needles, and cars, but that's about it. So, please, tell me, what is it about this may-or-may-not-be-locked-up individual that has you so upset?"

"It's sort of a long story . . ." said Ed, ducking his head so that his face was hidden in the shadows of the car's darkened interior. "It's not anything you ought to hear. It's not like it's something worth worrying about. It's all in the past."

"Ed, if it's something that upsets you then of course it's worth worrying about," insisted Roy gently, half-tempted to pull the car over so that he could wrap his arms around his obviously unhappy lover.

"Look, some fucked up shit happened, and the guy responsible got sent up the river, and his sentence was long enough that he should still be nice and cozy in his padded cell," said Ed, sounding exasperated and weary. "But I saw somebody who looks like him, and my tired mind conjured up something stupid and improbable in response. I'm tired, damn it, and it's been a rough day. I can't be blamed because my brain got all fucking squishy from lack of sleep."

"All right, love, I'll leave it alone for now," promised Roy, slipping that "for now" in there so smoothly that Ed would never notice it.

At the house, Roy's friends were all thrilled by Ed's arrival – and the prospect of Ed's cooking – and they greeted his entrance with enthusiastic cheers. They followed the two lovers into the kitchen, some to chat and others to help put up the groceries. Jean even offered to help get dinner started. Jean Havoc couldn't be trusted to boil water without burning it, but he could cut vegetables like a Cuisinart. Give Jean a kitchen knife and he instantly turned into a samurai. It was the only reason Ed didn't mind letting the man help in the kitchen from time to time. The automail made things like cutting vegetables or bread a lot harder than it strictly needed to be – though for some odd, unknown reason Ed had no problem cutting meat. It was a little disturbing, if Roy was being honest.

"So, when did being ' _gay_ ' become synonymous with being ' _homosexual_ '?" asked Ed of nobody in particular as he set the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter. "I mean, the original definition of ' _gay_ ' is, you know, happy or cheerful or whatever. So, did everybody used to think that homosexuals were all super happy people? Is, like, sucking dick supposed to be some sort of antidepressant or something? 'Cause, I'm here to tell ya, I've sucked dick on numerous occasions and yet I'm not exactly known for my sunny disposition."

"Dude! TMI!" cried Breda, but Ed just snorted as he began putting groceries away. Fuery worked alongside him, handing things over for Ed to put in their proper places on the shelves and in the refrigerator.

"What else am I supposed to do with, have a fucking staring contest? Hope that if I stare at it long enough it'll do tricks?" asked Ed noncommittally. "Trust me, the only trick I've ever seen a dick do is twitch really fucking hard, and as hilarious as that was, it wasn't exactly high-class entertainment."

"What's brought on this weird conversational topic?" asked Roy through his laughter. The other men in the room – all of whom were straight – tried to look disgusted, but . . . they were _men_. Of course they'd laugh. It was practically a biological imperative for men to find dick jokes funny.

"I ran across this little old lady who used to live next door to us when we were still living with Teacher," replied Ed with a shrug, closing the fridge door before returning to the bags on the counter. "She's really batty, ya know – the old lady, not my teacher? She used to think that thespians were girls who liked to kiss other girls, and that when people said I was gay they meant I was in a really good mood. I never bothered correcting her. Her hearing's bad, so she'd only hear about half of the explanation, and what little she did hear would probably give her heart failure."

"Oh dear God, that's comedy gold!" guffawed Breda.

"Me and Al always thought so too," snickered Ed. "Whenever we got bored but had to stick close to the house, we'd go over to her house and offer to help with the chores just so we could listen to the batty old lady talk. Who needs TV when you've got batty ladies? Oh, and then there were Teacher and Sig. Teacher is so closet bipolar, and Sig is secretly into cute and fluffy things. Plus there were all of their crazy ass friends, like Mason and Garfiel. You've met Mason, but Garfiel is, like, seriously, the _gayest_ man I know, but he's built like a fucking tank. You'd swear he was drag queen or something, he's so fucking froo-froo, but he's an automail mechanic – one of the best in the business next to Pinako. Seriously, every time I talk to him, I feel all my masculinity just fucking drain away. Next thing you know, I've got my pinky out and I'm crossing legs like a hooker. I've seen the same thing happen to straight men. Just something about him makes others gay by osmosis. Talk about enter-fucking-tainment! I like taking him to places where a lot of big burly men hang out just to watch them go fluffy at the edges. Not even Sig is immune."

"I kinda want to meet him, and at the same time I kinda want to stay on the other side of the planet from him," mused Jean, and Ed laughed warmly. Ed had a laugh that was so full of life and vibrancy that it could literally brighten a whole room. As soon as Ed started laughing, all the faces around him would instantly brighten, any fatigue or bad moods or rotten circumstances forgotten as those around him basked in the glow of that vivacious sound. It was one of the many reasons that all of Roy's associates – his friends, his research team, his foster mom and all of her employees – loved Ed fiercely, because having him around was like sitting down in front of a fireplace on a cold winter night, warm and inviting and so worth the wait.

Once Ed and Jean started fixing dinner, everybody else vacated the kitchen to return to their studying – though Jean did come get one of his school books so Ed could help him study while they cooked. It wasn't too long after that when Al showed up, along with a fairly worried Hohenheim. Ed and Al's father, Hohenheim, tended to be a fairly enigmatic individual at the best of times, so the fact that his worry was showing on the surface now was significant. "Is that you, Al?" called Ed from the kitchen.

"Hey, Brother! Is that stew I smell?" replied Al.

"Nope, it's something better. I've got my hands full, but I'll be out there in a minute to jaw with you," Ed called back. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"No, Dad and I were about to go grab a bite to eat, but after I got your call I wanted to stop by here first to check on you," answered Al. That was enough to get Ed to poke his head out of the kitchen. Upon spotting his father, Ed scowled and harrumphed then returned to the kitchen without a word. No one paid much mind to Ed's displeasure at his father's presence. It was business as usual, after all.

"Nonsense, you'll eat here. There's plenty," declared Ed from the kitchen, and there was no arguing with him when he used that tone. Al and Hohenheim simply exchanged a look then shrugged to each other. Not even Hohenheim would dare countermand an Ed who was in a huff.

Despite Ed's hatred of Hohenheim, he looked so much like him it was eerie – especially when Ed wore his reading glasses which were almost exactly the same as Hohenheim's oval-shaped frames. It was from Hohenheim that Ed had inherited his coloring, the gold of his eyes, hair, and skin the exact same as his father. The difference was in their body types. Hohenheim was broader built – and definitely taller – than Edward who was well-muscled but slender and shorter than the average male. Alphonse, on the other hand, was built like his father but had his mother's coloring – golden brown hair and gray-green eyes – and he had also inherited her smile. Seeing them together, people who didn't know the brothers often mistook Al for the older one. Just one of many reasons Ed hated being so short – and expressed that hatred rather violently more often than not. People only ever mistook him for the younger brother _once_.

"Roy, I need to talk to you privately," said Al softly – likely so that Ed wouldn't hear. Roy jerked his chin to the unused study on the other side of the parlor. Since he had a library on the second floor, he mostly used the study for storage, but lately he'd been cleaning it out so that Ed would have his own private space to put his books and academic detritus. Hohenheim followed them into the study, and closed the door behind them, leaning against it and keeping his head tilted toward it as if listening for approaching intruders. "All right, I promised you two an explanation, but I'll have to keep this brief for obvious reasons," began Al as he hitched himself up to sit on an uncluttered portion of the cluttered desk. He was fidgeting and very clearly unhappy, which was worrisome all on its own. "Five years ago, when Ed was seventeen, he was living here with Mason. He was paranoid thanks to everything that had happened to us already, so he wasn't really able to make any friends. He was working on a double-major too, so he didn't really have a lot of time to spare anyway. Winry and I were still in high school, and Izumi and Sig hadn't moved here yet either, so he was entirely on his own.

"So, some guy approached Ed, trying to be friends with him. Ed refused to let him get closer than being an acquaintance at school. He would occasionally sit with him in class and have lunch with him in the student union every now and then when there was no time to go elsewhere, but that's it. What Ed didn't know was that this man wasn't entirely well-hinged. Come to find out, the man had a mental disorder – erotomania, the delusion that someone, usually a celebrity or somebody you admire, holds romantic feelings for you. He also had severe monomania, and became entirely fixated on Ed. Eventually, Ed tried to get a restraining order, but nobody wanted to listen to him. They all thought that he was just playing a prank or that he was being too paranoid because he was on his own so young. The whole thing stressed him out so bad, he had to drop one of his majors and take a semester off.

"This didn't sit well with his stalker. One day, Ed went out to do a favor for one of the neighbors, but he never came home. The police didn't even bother looking for him very hard, figuring he had run away. When prodigies show signs of stress, everybody assumes that they've just broken under the strain of being a prodigy and disregard any other cause. Everybody thought he'd snapped and run off. Needless to say, such was not the case for Izumi, Sig, and I. We knew better. We knew something had to have happened. Mason even scoured Central City for him, but none of us had any luck. He was gone for a week before he turned up again. He'd been kidnapped, just like we thought, but he managed to beat the guy down and save himself. He was a mess. He was bloody and bruised, and heaven only knows what else. He won't tell anybody what happened, and that part of the court record has been sealed by the court, and Brother himself put in safe guards so no one can access that information. I have my suspicions, but I don't want to share speculations about something so sensitive without any concrete proof to back my theories. This incident is the reason Ed only lets a select few people touch him, and it took a couple years for even that much of a concession."

"What was this guy's name?" asked Roy, his calm tone strained at the edges as horror clawed at his gut.

"Robert Booker," annunciated Al as if he was naming off the chemical composition of vomit. "Me and Teacher and Sig made damn sure that no evidence was overlooked. We made sure that not even the best lawyer in the universe would be able to help that bastard walk. We made sure he would be convicted, and that his sentence would be the longest one possible. We were taking no chances. So, yes, Booker should still be in prison. He shouldn't get out for at least a couple more decades – or longer. Does it make me a terrible person that I keep hoping he'll commit suicide or get shived by his cell mate?"

"Not at all," Roy reassured him, his thoughts along similar lines. "But _I_ might be, since I was thinking I might actually make a phone call to ensure that it happens. I have many less than savory contacts . . . but I know Ed would likely strangle me to death for it then resurrect me to strangle me again. So, I'll refrain – for now."

"Alphonse, quit jabbering about shit that isn't anybody else's business and get your ass up here before I feed your share to the dogs!" shouted Ed through the door. Al hurriedly opened the door only to stop short in the doorway.

"Wait, you don't have any dogs," said Al, all at once puzzled. That's when Roy's lab team started barking and howling and panting with their tongues lolling out. "Ah, good point."

"This is what happens when you forget to feed them in the morning," said Roy, patting Jean on the head on he walked by. "Next thing you know they'll be humping the neighbors' legs and chasing the mailman."

"I'm a first time pet owner," said Ed with a shrug. "So sue me." Roy laughed and placed a kiss on Ed's cheek, earning himself and grin. Then Ed's expression changed as he turned a piercing stare toward his father. "You! There's a place set for you, so you might as well fucking sit. But I'm only feeding you because Al would stop talking to me again if I made you watch everybody else eat. But even if the food sucks, I don't want to hear one fucking word out of critique out of you. Now sit."

"Woof," said Hohenheim with a shrug, and the rest of them laughed as they took their seats.

As usual, Ed had whipped up an impressive spread. There were freshly steamed vegetable, pasta tossed with butter and fresh garlic, and breaded chicken covered in white wine sauce. "Have you been binge-reading cookbooks again, Brother?" asked Al with a fondly teasing smile.

"Not quite," said Ed, setting down a basket of fresh rolls before sitting down to dish up his own portion. "One of the girls taking my Computational Chemistry class is actually studying molecular gastronomy – you know, the study of flavor on a molecular level. She's already a sous-chef at some fancy restaurant downtown. We got to chatting, and I had her recite off some of her favorite quick-and-easy recipes. She said that the recipes she gave me aren't on the level of molecular gastronomy, but that they're what she makes when she's too busy cramming for finals to spend all day puttering around in the kitchen. In exchange I gave her a couple of my dessert recipes and some tricks for perfect pie crust from scratch, since she said she sucks at dessert and can't make a pie crust for shit. We promised to meet up this weekend along with a couple of her equally hopeless culinary arts study-buddies. They're all gonna bring some recipes for my arsenal, and in exchange I'll teach them how to make desserts. It's equivalent, so whatever."

"Are we still on for tomorrow?" asked Al, his smile not even twitching, but his eyes growing sad.

"Of course," said Ed, the same sad smile painted on his face. "I wouldn't miss it. All of my classes have subs coming in, and Paninya knows better than to put me on the schedule at the diner. I've got a thing at the crack of dawn, but that won't go for long. I'll have plenty of time to get everything we need. I'm assuming you're coming too old man."

"Naturally, Edward," said Hohenheim with a soft sigh. "It's long overdue, in fact."

"Then I'll pack enough for you too," said Ed, approving and grudging all in the same breath. "So, it'll be Izumi and Sig, Winry and Al, Pinako, you, and me, so seven altogether. But you're buying your own fucking flowers, old man. I can barely afford enough for me and Al. This ain't prom and I ain't your date, so you get to pull out your own damn wallet."

"What's going on tomorrow?" asked Roy, growing more curious with every dropped comment.

"Tomorrow is October 3rd," answered Ed unhelpfully.

"And what's that when it's at home?" asked Roy.

Since Ed had left to retrieve dessert, Al was the one that answered. "It's the anniversary of the day our mother died."


	3. Bright Side of Life

**A/N:** Hello again. I'd have posted this sooner, but I've had a really bad cold and a bunch of other insane drama (which everybody loves dealing with drama when they can't breathe through their nose). The good news is, thanks to all the coughing, fever, not eating, and drama I lost 6lbs and now have abs of fucking steal. Go me! Generic cough syrup can blow! It tastes like Satan's hemorrhoids, for real! Moving right along . . . there's not a whole heck of a lot going on this chapter, mostly build-up for future chapters and establishing of characters sort of stuff, but should still be fun anyway. The hardest part about writing this sequel is that I've been writing little inserts for it for months, so I'm trying to keep track of where those are supposed to go while still keeping track of the story and avoiding inconsistencies between this story and its predecessor. This would be much easier without the cough syrup.

 **Disclaimer: Yeah, sort of obvious, but I don't own FMA or any of its characters. I'm just a shameless invader pillaging the genius of others for my own jollies.**

 **Chapter 3**

 _Bright Side of Life_

Silence ruled the dining room as those who had heard Al's answer all groped in the dark for how to respond. Seeing everyone struggle, Al offered them one of his bright smiles to soothe them and continued explaining. "Every year we get together and eat all of her favorite foods – the ones she could never afford anymore – and we set a place for her and buy her favorite flowers to set in front of her plate. It's been our tradition ever since I woke up from my coma. Ed came up with it, since I felt bad for having to miss the funeral. He calls this a wake. You know, like the old Irish wakes. It's not quite an accurate description, but it's close enough. We all sit around and tell stories about her and celebrate her life instead of just mourning her death."

"Actually, it was Sig who suggested it," said Ed as he set down a gorgeous cake drizzled in white icing. "I just elaborated on his suggestion."

"And what kind cake are we having?" asked Breda, licking his lips as all of the men in the dining room leaned forward in anticipation.

"We call it 'Too Much Harvest Cake'," said Ed proudly. "It's made with all the different fruits we grew back home. I've been soaking them in my cinnamon rum sauce since this morning. I used to make it with the bits of fruit left over from making pies and shit all season – because there's always shit leftover when you make pies in bulk. There's also cinnamon and honey swirled throughout the cake. I've been making so many fucking pies for Chris and her crew, and I didn't want to waste all the leftover bits, so I decided to make this. I haven't made it in years."

"More's the pity," said Al emphatically, and Ed laughed, ruffling his little brother's hair.

"All right, you savages, take your dirty plates to the kitchen, but save your forks. I'll get the cake dished up," promised Ed, and they all hopped to with alacrity. "As soon as I get you dished up, take your cake into the parlor and get back to studying. Roy, sugar, could you start a fresh pot of coffee for me?"

"Sure, love, it's the least I can do in thanks for the feast," said Roy, wrapping an arm around his lover's waist for a brief squeeze and kissing the younger man on the cheek.

"Oh, shut it," admonished Ed, chuckling even as he rolled his eyes. "You act like I don't feed you like this every night."

"You two are sickeningly sweet together. You know that right?" said Hohenheim dryly. Ed just flipped him off them resumed dishing up cake. He even made sure to include a double portion for Breda who always ate more than the rest of them. "But I must say, I'm glad at least one of you inherited Trisha's knack in the kitchen. Alphonse, unfortunately, takes after me."

"Yep, the only thing he can make is pancakes, and he had to study and strain for a whole month to get any good at those," said Ed with a sigh. "To be honest, until I moved in with Roy I didn't really cook all that often anymore. I've been so busy. I barely had time to eat let alone cook. But now I _make_ the time. Cooking our meals is Roy's idea of rent for me staying here. It's not like I can help with the utilities, and the house is paid for so there's no need for me to help anyway. I can't clean worth a shit either, so cooking is all I've got to offer to this whole cohabitation thing. Well, cooking and my super awesome coffee machine. Everybody loves the coffee machine."

"I've heard about this marvel of yours. May I take a peek at it?" asked Hohenheim. Ed looked like he was debating for a minute then he finally let out a sigh and made a shooing gesture.

"It's this way," said Roy, gesturing for Hohenheim to follow him to the kitchen. Roy explained the brilliant piece of engineering that was Edward's miraculous coffee machine. Ed had made it in his "spare time" by cobbling together parts from various coffee-making apparatus. It not only brewed coffee, it also roasted and ground it then dumped it into the filter basket in precisely measured doses. It could make coffee, espresso, or cappuccino – though making cappuccino required attaching the spigot for the steam. It even hooked up to a water line so they never had to pour water into the machine, and if there wasn't sufficient coffee it would cut off its brewing cycle so that it brewed only as many cups as there was coffee in the filter basket. All they had to do was turn a dial to indicate number of cups and another to indicate type of beverage then just flip the switch. The machine did the rest.

"So, how are you settling into teaching at Central U?" asked Roy conversationally as he leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee machine to work its miracles.

"My eldest may not like me overly much, but he certainly went out of his way to ensure a smooth transition for me," said Hohenheim, his smile as subtle as ever. "I am very grateful for his assistance. I know Dr. Tringham feels the same. After everything that Ouroboros put us and our families through, this sudden normalcy is very comforting." Dr. Tringham, like Hohenheim, had been considered a hot commodity by Ouroboros, so the bastards had threatened the man's sons to force him to work for them. They'd tried to do the same thing to Hohenheim, which was why he'd run off when his sons were little, and why he'd stayed off the grid for so long. He'd abandoned his family to protect them – admirable, but perhaps poorly planned. As Ed had stated more than once, it would have been better if Hohenheim had taken his family with him when he'd run. If he'd done so, many of the tragedies and trials that had befallen them never would have happened. "If I could be said to have a complaint, it would be the unusual academic calendar. The fall semester doesn't end until the beginning of December, but finals are given throughout the first two weeks of November. That hardly seems fair to the students. Moreover, we're now being forced into mandatory participation in this fall festival. It just seems very odd to me."

"The Fall Charity Festival is the reason that finals are scheduled early, actually," Roy explained to him. "The festival is a big deal to everybody – from the students and faculty to the community and the charities that we raise money for. This festival has been going on since the 30's and it does a lot of good. We even donate all of the unsold food to the local soup kitchens. This year, it's an even bigger deal because of all the trouble caused by the last dean and his conspirators. The new dean is now in the precarious position of having to salvage the school's reputation and solidify his authority. Fiscally speaking, the school is in big trouble because of the need to reimburse the students impacted by the former dean's embezzlement, and also the need to make recompense to those who were sexually propositioned or assaulted by the old pervert. I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if Ed had been any less stubborn. He could have been one of those victims." Roy shuddered, trying to shove aside the unpleasant musings. "Anyway, thanks to the fact that he's taking over for a perverted crook, the new dean has to work twice as hard to prove that he can be a positive influence on the school and its student body."

"Oh my, you've put a lot of thought into this," said Hohenheim, impressed but also a little bit amused.

"Not really," said Roy with a shrug. "I used to be a Poly Sci major. I've got a knack for politics, but a preference for physics. Go figure."

"So, you know about the meeting tomorrow morning, right?" asked Ed as he deposited the now-empty cake platter in the sink to be washed with the rest of the dishes.

"Yes, that strange little woman – the one who wears too much make-up – warned me about it," replied Hohenheim, and Ed nodded before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Will you be going as well? I know it's only mandatory for the tenured faculty, but I would assume you would want some say in what you will be doing for the festival."

"Yeah, mornings aren't my thing, but what fucking choice have I got?" said Ed with a heavy sigh. "And, Roy, just in case, you might want to prepare bail money in advance. I've got a bad feeling I'ma maim somebody before this meeting's over."

"Don't worry, I'll have the team prepped and ready to break you out of prison, love," promised Roy, and Ed nodded in absent satisfaction. "You might want to make sure to leave me a good cake recipe with a flavor strong enough to cover the taste of sleeping pills so the guards won't suspect they're being drugged. Though, I think if we just leave you in prison for a few days, you'll completely take over and make it into your own private kingdom."

"True, true," nodded Ed again. "But what do I need a kingdom for? I'm already lauded as the God of all Science. I'm content with my temples and worshippers thanks, so you better break my ass out of the clink – especially if you plan to ever get laid again. Given half a chance, I can chemically induce erectile dysfunction, and I'm not exactly known for my forgiving nature." He gave Roy a grin and an impudent wink then strolled away with his cup of coffee in hand.

"Sometimes it worries me that I sleep next to him every night," muttered Roy, and, to his surprise, Hohenheim let out a deep burst of laughter.

"I used to think the same thing about his mother," he said, still chuckling and shaking his head to himself as the two of them headed out into the parlor which connected directly to the kitchen. Well, he called it a parlor because that's what the floor plan included with his parents' will had called it, but really it was just the room with the most seating. Ed called it the "snooty people's version of a living room".

Initially, when Ed had first moved in, the only TV in the house had been in Roy's bedroom – mostly because he rarely allowed guests in his house so he felt no need to entertain anybody but himself. Now, they had guests over at least once a week – whether it be to study or to mooch Ed's home-cooked food – so they'd moved the TV down into the parlor and added a game console. Another addition to the parlor since Ed's arrival was the old console record player that Roy, Ed, and Al had dragged down from the attic, along with the expansive collection of old vinyl. Being a lover of music, Ed handled all of the maintenance for the record player and had built shelves to hold all the records. Roy's Aunt Chris and her staff took it upon themselves to send them yet more records every time they came across a good one, a kindness that Ed was always happy to reward with homemade pie and other goodies – last time it was enchiladas and tamales.

"All right, everybody," said Ed, his voice snapping out like the crack of a whip. "You. Useless," he snapped, pointing at his father. "Make yourself useful. These idiots haven't even realized yet that the theorem their stupid teacher gave them is wrong, which is why the rest of the assignment isn't coming out right _at all_."

"Shit!" cursed Breda, and the sentiment was shared by Roy, Fuery, and Falman.

"You," Ed snapped out, pointing to his brother next. "Aren't you supposed to be studying for your mid-terms? If you have your books in the van, go get them. If they're not in the van, go home and get them."

"Yes, Brother," said Al, knowing better than to argue with his brother.

"You," Ed pointed to Jean next. "Dig through that disorganized pile of crap and pull out the notes for the classes you're having trouble in. I also want to see the rubrics for your finals, and go get the book you left in the kitchen."

Jean, Roy, and the lab team all exchanged a significant look, then raised their hands in supplication. "All hail the Science God!"

"Damn skippy," snorted Ed, folding himself down gracefully to sit on the floor near Jean.

"Now, this is perhaps the hundredth time I've heard you boys say that. I have to admit, I'm fairly curious where it came from," said Hohenheim, making himself comfortable on one of the room's two chairs and accepting a cup of coffee from his youngest son. "It would be nice to know how my eldest son became deified."

Breda told him the story of how Ed had once done in minutes what would have taken the entire lab team months of tedious work to accomplish, thus fixing the error that had nearly set their research back to square one. It had been so easy for him, just a minor bit of assistance whereas to them it was monumental. Afterwards, Breda had jokingly asked what sort of temple they should build in his honor. Later, they pushed the joke a little further, building a little cardboard diorama of a temple to keep in their lab with a caricature sketch of Ed as The Science God. After that, word spread throughout the University, and now there were dozens upon dozens of students and teachers who called Ed the Science God. Small temples to Ed were popping up all over the university. It was practically a trend. Chris's staff had since amended that accolade to "The God of Science and _Pie_ ". Ed found the whole thing uproariously funny. Roy couldn't blame him. He thought it was funny too.

"Oh Ed," said Hohenheim, laughing. "Only _you_ could help someone with their homework and turn into a God."

"What can I say? I'm an interesting guy," said Ed with an unconcerned shrug.

Maes and Riza arrived then, Maes entering as boisterously as he always did, already reaching into his breast pocket for photos of his beloved daughter. He loved to show off pictures of Elysia to anybody who would stand still long enough, be they family, friend, or stranger. It was impossible to escape the man's persistence – impossible for everybody but Ed that is. "Hughes, if I see even one damn picture, I swear I will implant it where only your proctologist will ever see it," growled Ed, and Maes pouted as he moved his hand away from his pocket.

"I hope you know that party poopers run a higher risk of ulcers and male pattern balding," declared Maes, his statement getting the derisive snort it deserved as its only answer.

"Hello, Edward, Alphonse," said Riza with a tiny smile that, though small, was more than she generally showed to anybody else. She was genuinely fond of the Elric brothers for reasons of her own that she had yet to divulge – not even to Roy who was her closest childhood friend. He and Riza had been through a lot together, but usually she was a very private person, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"Hey Riza," greeted Ed warmly. "I'm glad you're here. You can help me crack the whip on these idiots and keep them in line. Lucky for them, I've already done my studying or I'd have left them to swing in the wind. Oh, and I save you guys each a piece of cake. It's in the dining room. Would you like some tea, Riza?"

"That would be delightful," she replied, genuinely pleased. Roy would be jealous of this affectionate little display of courtesy except that he knew that Ed was really, truly gay. If Riza had a little less estrogen and a little more testosterone, Roy would have reason to be concerned. But, since that wasn't the case, Roy would assume it was a more fraternal affection. Ed didn't respect many people, but Riza was one of the few to have earned that rare gift.

"Um, hey, Breda, Hughes, we got a little something we need you guys to help us look into," said Ed once the two newest guests were tucking into their cake. "I thought I saw somebody today . . . at the grocery store. He should still be in jail though . . . and I didn't get a good look . . . I could be wrong. I'm pretty damn tired and really stressed out and have a lot of shit going on. So, it could be that I saw somebody similar and my mind went to a dark place all on its fucking own. So, I guess what I'm asking is . . . can you guys _please_ help me figure out if I was freaking out for no good fucking reason?" Something in his tone and in his eyes all but begged them to prove him wrong, to prove that he had been mistaken, that he hadn't seen who he thought he'd seen. He was desperate for them to restore his peace of mind. "I haven't finished programming facial recognition into my re-enactment model yet, so I need you guys to do this the old fashioned way – by investigating. Will you help?"

"Of course," said Maes without hesitation as if there had never been a question of his willingness to help.

"No problem," added Breda with a grin. "You already bribed me with cake. How can I say no?" That was enough to startle a laugh out of Ed, some of his tension easing.

"I have some contacts in the prison system," said Riza as if thinking aloud. "I can put in some calls for you and find out if he's still in prison, but it might take a day or two for them to get back to me with an answer."

"In the meantime, we can look at the security camera footage from the grocery store," said Breda, and Maes nodded.

"If it's the grocery store up on Lincoln Avenue then it's an old security system. It uses CCTV, so we'll have to go get the actual video," added Maes then he grinned and handed Ed his empty plate. "Won't take a minute!" Before anyone could raise a protest, he was already long gone. Roy swore for the millionth time that the man had been trained by ninjas.

"Did he drive or did you?" Ed asked Riza mildly as he got up to take the plate to the kitchen.

"I drove," answered Riza, getting up to check out the window that her car was still in the driveway.

"But so did I, and that jackass has carjacked me before," said Jean with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"So he has," agreed Riza blandly.

"And, let me guess, my car isn't by the curb anymore, is it?" asked Jean, already sagging in defeat.

"You'd be correct," answered Riza, and Jean sighed.

"I'm just glad it wasn't me this time," muttered Roy.

"How is he even _in_ the _law_ department?" asked Ed of no one in particular. Truly it was a mystery for the ages.

"Boss, can I ask a sorta insensitive question?" asked Jean, turning to look Ed in the eye. "Would it be weird if I kinda, um . . . tagged along tomorrow? It's just, I wouldn't mind honoring the lady that gave birth to the Science God and all. I mean, as many times as you've saved my ass – and the rest of the football team for that matter – I just think it would be the right thing to do. Ya know?"

Ed lifted his head, caught off guard by the request. He looked to his father and brother who then looked to each before shrugging. "Um, sure, I don't see why not," Ed answered at last.

"Cool," said Jean, grinning. The rest of them liked this idea, Roy especially, so they each asked if they could come along too. Roy had already been planning to ask after everybody had left, so it would be less awkward, but Jean had beaten him to the punch. Apparently, Roy wasn't the only one who wanted to honor Ed's mom who, from everything he'd heard so far, had been an amazing lady. The fact that she'd given birth to two such amazing sons was proof of that.

"You said you usually buy her favorite flowers," said Breda contemplatively. "What kind of flower and where's the best place to get it?"

"Um, actually . . . it's a little embarrassing," said Ed, ducking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

Hohenheim smiled with poorly veiled amusement. "She named Edward after her favorite flower. That's why he says it's embarrassing."

"It's a pink rose called the _Edward Rose_ ," snickered Al. "They have it at the Briar Patch Nursery on the corner of Burch and E. University. It's a summer flower, so it's usually pretty hard to get in the fall, but the girl who owns Briar Patch – ironically, her name is Rose – makes sure to keep some in her greenhouse just for us."

"And, you know what? Rose has also been providing me with materials for my research, either growing the plants I need or ordering them for me," said Ed, happily redirecting the topic. "Rose is good people."

"They hit it off right away because Ed's got a green thumb and a secret fascination with botany, but has no patience for gardening," said Al teasingly, but then his expression softened. "Really, she's one of the people that Ed helped, in his own way. After her fiancé passed away, she was kind of lost for a while. Ed gave her some rough advice – he was actually pretty rude about it, to be honest – but it really seemed to give her hope. Like with that homeless man outside of the diner. He doesn't show up just because Ed feeds him. He shows up because Ed _sees_ him. He talks to him and takes the time to listen to him when he can. Because he's homeless, most people try very hard _not_ to see him. They ignore his existence, so being noticed and treated like a normal human being means the world to him."

"Yeah well, I'm a busybody sometimes. So what?" sniffed Ed defensively. "It's not my fault nobody else can be bothered to do something so fucking simple. Speaking to people and actually paying attention when they speak back isn't that fucking difficult. It's simple courtesy. I don't have any manners to speak of and even I know _that_ much. And if you see somebody that's looking down or having a hard time, isn't it only right to try to help? What's the point of cramming a bunch of humans into a single community if they can't even be bothered to notice that the people right next to them are drowning too? Have humans become so isolated that they've forgotten what it means to reach out a hand to somebody who needs help up? Have we really lost so much of our empathy that we can't look at each other and remember when that was us sitting in that same place, wondering when help would come? Kindness isn't only for when it's convenient or easy. It's for every hour of every day, because our ability to empathize with one another is what's makes us human. There's nothing wrong with thinking like this, and I won't let anybody tell me different."

"There's nothing wrong with it Brother," said Al, smiling kindly. "But most people aren't capable of looking past their own problems to see that other people are suffering too. They just don't have the capacity to care that much. Not everybody has a heart as big as yours, and the few who do aren't able to protect it. Having a big heart, makes your heart a bigger target, easier to wound. You're unique in that you've learned to protect your heart in thick armor without closing yourself off completely."

"Slow your roll, Alphonse," said Ed in a warning tone. "I'm not as altruistic as you think. And anyway, I'm plenty closed off. I'm very picky about who I let get close, but I've been paranoid long enough to have become a good judge of character. The people here, right now, are good people, so I'm cool with trusting them – as much as I trust anybody, anyway. As for the people I help out, I do that shit for my own selfish reasons. I see something needs doing, I do it. If I don't, it bugs me. That's all it is. Don't look to deep into it. I don't."

"And that, Edward, is why we all love you," said Al with a warm laugh, shaking his head over his brother. "You're a good person, without even thinking twice about it, without even trying. The rest of us struggle with it – doing the right thing, putting other's needs before our own. So, don't discount your kindness big brother. It's certainly something worth noting."

Ed's entire face turned bright red in an endearing, and very thorough, blush. "Tch, whatever. Think what you want. I'm just keeping our promise. I've never broken a promise once, and I'm never gonna. End of story."

"You mean the promise with mom?" asked Al with a sad smile, and Ed nodded stiffly. Al looked to the curious faces watching their exchange. "We promised our mom that we would use our big brains to make the world a better place. We promised to find ways to help people. That's why I'm becoming a doctor. I want to open a clinic to help people who normally can't afford proper health care. The promise is also why Ed has concentrated so much of his efforts into finding cures and compromises for those without hope. Those who saw his prosthetics research – the drug he created that prevents rejection of transplants, implants, and invasive prosthesis such as automail – thought he did it for himself, since he has automail. But it was too late to use it on him. He did it so nobody else would have to go through what he went through. Same thing goes with the automail limbs he designed. Having automail is so hard, and it taxes the body so badly. The limbs he and Winry designed reduce that burden significantly, and now those who could never have been able to adapt to automail before can tolerate the procedure better and manage the limbs more easily. His current research could potentially halt the spread of degenerative diseases, and maybe even reverse a percentage of the degeneration process. Mom always believed that we would be able to change the world. She said that not everybody has the power to change the world, but those who do have an obligation to do so. She truly believed we could do real good, so we promised her we would, and we work hard to this day to repay her faith in us."

"And she would be very proud to see how far you've come," said Hohenheim with absolute certainty. Al beamed, but for some reason Ed's eyes seemed clouded, as if something haunted him, tainting his sense of accomplishment. "You've done well, Edward, even if you can't see it right now. You can only celebrate your victories when you stop dwelling on your defeats."

"Maybe," said Ed with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as if collecting himself. "Anyway, we need to get back to work. Morning is gonna come at us way too fucking early, so I don't want to be doing this shit all night."

 **A/N Part II:** Fun Fact: There really is such a thing as an Edward Rose. It's very pink and very girly. When I saw it, I thought of Ed and the comparison made me crack up. I just had to include it. How could I not? Right?


	4. Memories That Never Fade

**A/N:** This is me offering my deepest, most abject apologies for the long wait for this chapter. Moving was just as brutal as predicted, and in the process I managed to catch 2 colds and flu plus throw my back out. What does this matter to you, you might ask. This means two things. One: thanks to being bed-ridden I was able to finally finish this chapter (tho between the cold medicine and the pain killers I can't guarantee the quality). So although I can't finish my unpacking and my new apartment looks like Boxapaluza, or possibly a cardboard orgy, I have more time for writing. Small victories, right?; Two: I'm working from my laptop whose keyboard is a total piece of shit, so there may be rather more typos than usual. I tried to edit them out, but they were far more copious than my wandering wits could easily track. Seriously, I have to pound on the keys like I'm playing the crescendo of a Beethoven sonata. It's ridiculous. On a side note, I can promise that both of the songs are honest-to-goodness German children's songs. On another side note, my minion is preggers, so now that she has nothing better to do besides transmogrify into Shamu (you know I love you darling, you're the butter on my muffin, but if I don't pick on you, you'll start thinking it's a sign of the apocalypse) she'll be able to help me get my editing done a little faster. Woohoo, preggers!

 **Chapter 4**

 ** _Memories That Never Fade_**

The next morning arrived with a clatter and a bang. The clatter was the sound of Ed getting tangled in a corner of the sheet and not realizing it until it was too late. The bang was when he landed on the floor. Needless to say, prolific cursing followed. Roy was actually a little worried when Ed didn't immediately get back up, but then he realized that Ed had simply wrapped up in the sheet, curled up on the floor, and fallen back to sleep. Roy had to bite his lip hard to keep from chuckling. Ed really, really, really wasn't a morning person. Feeling bad for his beleaguered lover who had been forced to wake with the dawn, Roy went downstairs and prepared a cup of coffee just the way Ed liked it – black with tons of sugar – then returned to the bedroom to gently shake Ed awake.

Ed blinked at him blearily as he sat up, his flesh hand rubbing his eyes adorably and his outrageous bed head waving its own amicable morning greeting. Roy absolutely loved Ed's bed head. It was always so incredibly epic in scale while at the same time comedic in shape. It definitely made it worth his while to wake up when Ed did, even on the days when Roy could have been sleeping in. Besides, if Roy woke up when Ed did then usually Ed could be coaxed into making them breakfast.

Unfortunately, there would be no time for breakfast just yet, but they would all be meeting up at Dante's – the diner where Ed worked and thus was able to bless them with his employee discount ( _All Hail the Science God!_ ) – so there wouldn't be too awfully long of a wait for breakfast. Besides, Dante's had awesome food. They even had a deal worked with a nearby bakery so that all of the bread used by Dante's was bakery fresh. It wasn't Ed's home cooking, but it was good enough to be considered a close second to it.

Despite the travel mug of coffee that he was holding like the last life jacket on the Titanic, poor Ed was a complete zombie all the way to the university. He was so out of it he hardly even noticed he was in a car. When they arrived at the school, Ed slid out of the car just as Hohenheim was climbing out of Al's huge van a few parking spaces away. Father and eldest son blinked blearily at each other for a moment, grunted once each, then turned and shambled off toward one of the smaller lecture halls. "At least they're communicating now," said Al with a shrug and quizzical frown. "In what language, I don't know, but communicating nonetheless."

"It counts," agreed Roy. "Small victories, as they say."

"Just don't let Ed hear you say that," snickered Al. They both knew that if Ed had heard Roy's mention of the word "small" in the same sentence as Ed, best case scenario, Roy would be sleeping on the couch for a week – worst case scenario involved pain, lots and lots of pain.

Al and Roy got into their respective vehicles and headed for Dante's where the pair of them would wait for Hohenheim and Ed to get done with their meeting. The diner was in spitting distance of the university, and hopefully good food and free coffee would appease the unhappy-to-be-awake Edward. When they walked through the glass door of the diner, Al and Roy were greeted by one of the waitresses who recognized them from the many times they'd been in there before – either visiting Ed at work, or going in with Ed to shamelessly leech his employee discount. They chatted with her briefly then ordered something to eat and copious coffee, and settled in to wait.

The waiting time passed mostly unnoticed, since Al and Roy had decided to use this respite to get some more studying done. It seemed like the blink of an eye between finishing breakfast and Ed and Hohenheim walking through the door. They each had a big binder under one arm and identical expressions that were caught somewhere between shell-shocked and irritated. Ed slid into the booth next to Roy, and without a word buried his face behind Roy's shoulder. Roy just smiled to himself and put an arm around Ed, pulling him closer so the smaller man could put his head on Roy's chest.

"I take it that the meeting didn't go well," said Roy, and Ed let out a wordless growl, soft and menacing.

"You could say that," said Hohenheim with a loud sigh. Honestly, Roy couldn't remember ever having seen the man look so agitated.

"Do I even want to know what's in the binders?" asked Al carefully.

"Charities," replied Ed and Hohenheim at the same time.

"Do you already have your assignments?" asked Al, plucking the binder out of his father's hand.

"Yes," they replied.

"And will we be sharing with the rest of the class?" asked Al, earning himself a matching set of heated glares. It really could be disconcerting at times how much like Hohenheim Ed looked.

"Hey Ed, you look like you need some industrial strength coffee," said their waitress, Carla.

"For the love of everything, pretty please with sugar on top," pleaded Ed desperately, and Carla laughed as she scribbled it on her order pad.

"And for you, honey?" she asked Hohenheim.

"The same, if you would be so kind," he replied politely. She winked and nodded then left to fetch their coffee. When she returned, she jotted down the two newcomers' orders then bustled away again.

"So, spill, what booths have you been assigned to?" pushed Al. Ed let out a wordless growl and mixed sugar into his coffee sullenly.

"Come on Ed, don't be like that," Al scolded him gently. Ed only sighed, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Some jackass tried to put me in the dunk tank at first," said Ed, and Al looked up, horrified. "Yep, which is about the time I had to inform them that doing so would literally kill me. Most of them don't know about my automail, and I usually prefer it that way, but I was about to have to lay it all out for them. Luckily, some bright soul popped out with, 'If he can't swim, it's none of our business, and we have no right to judge.' I didn't know whether to groan or kiss his feet. Then Rainbow Bright and his fag hags spoke up."

"Who?" asked Roy curiously.

"Professor Gainor," said Ed evenly.

Al and Roy exchanged a questioning look then comprehension dawned and they said at the same time, "Oh, Professor Gay-nerd!" Ed snickered a little while Hohenheim looked like he didn't know whether to smack them all over the head or join their laughter. The horrible nickname had been given to the biology professor because it was actually a pretty literal description of the guy as well as a play on his name. And each new generation of students learned of the nickname and used it judiciously. Professor Gainor didn't mind. After all, he was very, _very_ obviously gay and very obviously a nerd and had no problem owning up to those facts – loudly and with glitter.

"Yeah, him and those three pain-in-the ass liberal arts professors are always after me about gay pride or whatever. I ignore them because I'm not into the whole 'movement' thing. I just like what I like, you know? It's not like I'm in the closet. I just don't care enough about what people think to get offended if they have a problem with my sexual preferences. What business is it of theirs anyway?" explained Ed, rolling his eyes. "But that's beside the point. The point is that Gainor pipes up with, 'Since Elric is one of the few openly gay faculty members he should help with the HRC events.' I coulda killed him. I don't have a problem with the Human Rights Campaign in general, but the events that benefit the HRC are the Talent Show, the Beauty and the Beast Pageant, and the Fashion Show."

"So, which one of those three will you be putting up with?" asked Al, wincing in sympathy, and Ed just let his head hit the table with a thunk.

"All three . . ." he groaned miserably.

"You're only doing backstage though, right?" asked Al, eyes wide and disbelieving. "There's no way they'd be able to get you on the stage."

"Mostly I'll be backstage," said Ed unhappily. "The Beauty and the Beast Pageant is all cross-dressing, but I catch enough shit about looking like a fucking girl as it is. I'd rather die than add more fuel to that fire, please and thank you. But I promised I'd at least be an announcer or work the lights or something. I'm also doing all the equipment and tech set-up for the Fashion Show. But the Talent Show is a different story . . ."

"Actually, the argument about all that was pretty funny," commented Hohenheim, smiling around the rim of his coffee cup. "I have a recording, if you want to hear it."

"You've got to be shitting me," intoned Edward evenly, lifting his head to level a baleful glare on his father. "You recorded that shit?! Why?"

"I figured I wouldn't be coherent enough to pay attention to most of the meeting, so I recorded it. I wanted to able to review it once I'd had more coffee," explained Hohenheim, pulling a mini-recorder out of his pocket. He cued it up so that it began with a comment from Ed:

 _"Are you out of your fluffy, glitter-choked, rainbow-lovin' mind?!"_ demanded a very angry Ed. _"There's no way in hell you are ever getting me up on that stage. I'd rather drink a broken glass and vinegar smoothie. The only way you'd be able to get me into a dress is if you paint it on my comfy hoodie and jeans."_

 _"Come on Elric,"_ said the overly effeminate, needlessly melodramatic voice of Professor Gainor – you only had to hear him speak once, and you'd never mistake him for anyone else forever after. _"No offense to anybody else here, but of the men we have on staff, you're one of only three who would actually be able to pull off dressing up like a girl. You'd be gorgeous, honey! Seriously, you'd win it hands down! Just throw you in a sexy little sheath number with spaghetti straps and some wicked heels and you'd have that prize in the bag!"_

 _"Hold the sparkles, To Wong Foo,"_ growled Edward. _"You can't just wave your little rainbow wand and turn me into Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Sorry to break your heart, Princess, but metal is not the new black."_ There was the sound of something heavy and made of metal landing on a table with a clank followed by a chorus of gasps. _"You can't put something like this in heels, and I ain't showing off my scar collection with spaghetti straps. This is supposed to be a beauty pageant not a horror show."_

"Ed had actually put his leg on the table and rolled up his sleeve and his pants leg to show off Winry's handiwork," interjected Hohenheim, pausing the tape so he could explain. Roy and Al were already giggling behind their hands, imagining the scenario playing out. "It looked as if everyone in the room was trying to catch bugs in their mouths. Some of them already knew, of course, but most hadn't a clue. Professor Gainor was flabbergasted. He looked like he didn't know whether to apologize or throw a hissy fit."

Hohenheim pressed play on the recorder and the silence that had overtaken the meeting soon gave way to the sound of somebody chortling, but muffled as if they were trying to hide it. A couple other people added their own muffled laughter, but after a moment their mirth was overshadowed by Ed letting out one of his wonderful laughs. _"Look, Rainbow Brite, I know we get along like vinegar and water . . ."_

 _"Don't you mean 'oil and water'?"_ asked Gainor peevishly.

 _"Nope, vinegar and water, 'cause when we get together we act like douches,"_ countered Ed dryly followed by an even greater outburst of laughter from the room. _"And, anyway, it's not the point. What I was going to say is that I'll help with your damn events, but you're going to have to resign yourself to the fact that there is no force on earth that is going to get me on stage."_

 _"I beg to differ,"_ blustered the deep voice of Dean Grande. _"You will participate in at least one of the three events – not backstage, but as an active and visible participant. You're extremely popular among the students, and any event that features you on stage will naturally draw in a massive audience, which will mean massive profits for the charitable organization. However, I will leave it to you to decide which one you will perform in."_

 _"This is why nobody likes you,"_ intoned Ed flatly.

 _"Nonsense, everybody likes me,"_ scoffed Grande.

 _"No, they like their paychecks so they pretend to like you. As for me, I'm only an adjunct. You don't actually pay me enough to fake-like you,"_ snorted Ed.

 _"Oh, and your mustache looks stupid."_

 _"Now you're just being petty,"_ said Grande, and he sounded like he was actually sulking.

 _"Damn fucking straight,"_ said Ed, unabashed.

Hohenheim stopped the tape there, and Ed dropped his head back onto the table. "Hey, Useless? Could you e-mail me a digital copy of that recording? I don't think I even caught the first half of the meeting, and I probably ought to know what's going down so it doesn't bite me in the ass later."

"Sure thing, Edward," promised Hohenheim. Sometimes Roy wondered about Hohenheim's damn near saintly acceptance of Ed's continued animosity toward him. Half the time, Ed wouldn't even call him by name – opting instead for Useless or Jackass – and when he did use his name, it wasn't even his first name. He used his last name only, like he would anybody else. He only ever really used the first names of those he considered special, like Riza, Roy, and Al. But shouldn't a father, estranged or not, still be considered special enough to warrant the use of his first name? However, instead of getting annoyed, or even offended, Hohenheim just let it all slide and continued to struggle to win back his eldest son's trust. He may not be the greatest father in the world, but he was trying, and Roy had to give him props for that at least. "Would you like Al and I go to the grocery store before meeting you at Roy's place?"

"Sure," answered Ed, sitting back and lifting his shoulders in a tired shrug. "Since I'm feeding more people than I originally planned on, I need a fuck-ton more ingredients than I have now. I'll write out the list for you before we leave here. But, since you guys are doing that, me and Roy can go to the florist to get flowers for the four of us."

"Sounds fair," agreed Al, and the boys both nodded. It was the policy by which Ed and Al lived. They refused to give or receive something for nothing. All of their actions were measured against that guiding principle of equivalency of gain, that whatever they gave had to be in equal proportion to what they received, and vice versa. For Ed and Al, "give and take" took on a whole new meaning. Hohenheim seemed to understand the principle intrinsically, and he often seemed to live by it just as staunchly as his sons did. Maybe that was where they had learned it in the first place.

With their missions in mind, as soon as they finished breakfast, the two pairs headed back out into the chilly autumn air. Luckily, it had warmed up just a bit from the frigid temperature of that morning, but it still wasn't quite warm enough to be any comfort to Ed. Roy felt really bad for his angel, so any time they stepped out of the car, Roy made sure to keep an arm wrapped around Ed's shoulders to give him all the warmth he could. Ed didn't say anything, but Roy could tell he was grateful – and, dare he imagine, a bit pleased to be snuggling so close.

Despite their repeated closeness throughout the morning, Roy didn't notice that anything was wrong with Ed until they got back to the house. Upon returning home, Ed walked straight through the house until he reached the kitchen where he promptly dropped into a chair and put his head in his arms. Worried by the odd look on his lover's face, Roy had followed him, so he reached the kitchen only a couple steps behind Ed. He arrived just in time to see Ed drop into a chair at the small kitchen table, all but collapsing forward to put his head in his arms. Ed let out a shaky breath and in the next instant his whole body began to tremble.

"What's wrong?" asked Roy, crouching beside Ed's chair and gently running a hand over silken golden hair.

"Sorry," said Ed shakily. "I just have a hard time keeping it together today . . . but I'll be all right in a minute."

"All right, love," said Roy, leaning in to kiss the side of Ed's head, leaving a final caress on his wind-tangled hair. "I'll make you some coffee. Want me to text Al and see what their ETA is with the groceries?"

"Please," said Ed quietly. Roy sent a quick text to Al then started the coffee. While the coffee machine worked its miracles, Roy put the flowers in the refrigerator to keep them fresh until it was time to leave. By the time the coffee was ready, Ed looked a little bit more composed – or at least more like himself. The coffee seemed to restore him the rest of the way.

Al texted Roy back to let him know it was going to be a few more minutes, so Roy and Ed curled up on the couch together to thaw out a bit more and enjoy a much-needed cuddle session. Cuddling evolved into kissing, and that was what they were still doing when Hohenheim and Al walked in the door without bothering to knock. Roy should have remembered that since Al practically lived there, he rarely knocked anymore. However, when Roy tried to pull away, Ed held him fast, refusing to release him.

"Get a room," commented Al on his way to the kitchen, grocery bags in hand.

"Why bother with one room when we've got a whole house?" retorted Ed, unrepentant. "But I guess I should get to work or I won't get it all done in time. Sugar, could you do me a huge favor and text everybody to get me a solid head count? I need to know how much to make."

"I'm on it, love," replied Roy, sitting up once Ed's weight was no longer holding him in place – for all that he was short, Ed was made of solid muscle so if he didn't want to let Roy up, Roy wasn't getting up.

While Ed got busy prepping ingredients, Roy got busy texting like mad, thumbs flying across the screen of his smart phone. He started getting affirmative replies almost right away, their friends enthusiastically looking forward to any event that involved free food and good company. As soon as he had a solid idea of who could and couldn't make it, he reported his findings to Ed who accepted the number with a distracted nod. "Want me to put on some music?" asked Roy, and Ed turned to smile at him over his shoulder.

"That would be awesome," he said brightly. Pleased that he had been able to cheer Ed up somewhat, Roy hurried over to the huge console record player in the parlor.

"What are we in the mood for today?" Roy called into the kitchen.

"How about some Motown?" replied Ed, getting an enthusiastic endorsement from Al. Roy laughed and chose a record that was a compilation of classic Motown hits, knowing that it was one of Ed's favorites. Ed had such eclectic and eccentric taste in music, enjoying everything from classical to classic rock. He claimed that he liked any music that wasn't asinine, and he usually listened to music that was consistent with whatever mood he was in or that put him in the right frame of mind for whatever he was doing.

As soon as the old school sounds began to fill the house, the mood in the kitchen noticeably brightened. Roy decided to pitch in and help with the prep work wherever Ed would allow him, the two of them enjoying idle banter and casual affection as they worked. Mostly Ed and Roy didn't have time for things like dates and romantic holidays, but these moments of warm ease more than made up for that lack. Roy couldn't remember ever having been in such a comfortable relationship before. It was as if being together was an entirely natural state for them and required no effort or thought. They simply fit together, their lives mingling and intertwining as easily as breathing. Roy couldn't be any happier if he tried. Now if only he could convince Ed not to worry so much, they'd be golden.

The problem was Ed's insecurity. Outwardly, Ed was confident and strong and capable – to a degree that was downright terrifying at times. However, buried under that surface confidence was a hidden wellspring of doubts and self-directed cruelty. Quite a bit of his self-doubt was wrapped around his automail limbs and the scars that covered his body. To Ed's mind they made him ugly and undesirable, so Ed had a hard time believing that somebody like Roy – "a man who could get anybody he wanted" according to Ed – would want to somebody like Ed. It was actually a little heartbreaking that Ed had such a low opinion of himself. How could somebody so beautiful and brilliant be so blind to his own merits?

"So, what are we doing for Thanksgiving this year?" asked Roy lightly, the flurry of food prep bringing to mind the holiday dedicated to overeating. "Are you heading back to your hometown?"

"Usually Granny Pinako comes into town, and her and Winry and me and Al all get together to eat way too much and play cards and watch movies. It's been our tradition ever since Al and Winry started going to Central U. It's easier, with our lab and testing schedule, for Granny to come to us than for us to go to her," Ed explained to him. "But for Christmas we go back home, since we have a longer break. What about you? What do you do for Thanksgiving?"

"Aunt Chris shuts down the bar and we have a huge feast with me and Chris and those of her girls and boys that don't have a home or family to return to," answered Roy. "It gets pretty lively."

"You know, maybe this year, we can have them over," suggested Ed as if thinking aloud. "Do like a pot luck thing, ya know? That way I'm not doing _all_ the cooking. I don't know if we could fit everybody at the table, but maybe if add a card table on the end, we could squeeze them all in. It depends on how many people would be coming."

"Or we could have it over at Chris's since they already have the space to accommodate everybody, and then _we_ won't be responsible for cleaning up the mess," offered Roy as a counter-suggestion, and Ed grinned at him.

"I like the way you think Mustang," he said, ruffling Roy's hair with that boyish mischief-loving smile of his. "I'll email Chris and see what she thinks."

"If it means she doesn't have to cook, I'm sure she'll be on board," chuckled Roy, and Ed let out a fuller laugh.

Roy heard a knock on the door, but before he could go answer it, he heard the door open, Al calling to them, "You two better have all your clothes on!"

"Nope, we're butt-ass naked on the kitchen floor," called back Ed, and Roy snickered behind his hand.

"Brother, you're so crude," Al admonished him as he entered the kitchen, arms laden with grocery bags. Hohenheim entered behind his youngest son and deposited his own burden of bags on the kitchen table. "We got everything on your list, but we had to compromise on the brands for a few of the items. I hope you don't mind."

"It should be fine," said Ed with a shrug as he approached the bags. "All right, everybody get the hell outta my kitchen so I can work."

The three men not cooking raided the coffee then retreated to the safety of the parlor for fear of Edward's wrath. "So, Roy, have you had any luck getting Ed to unpack his stuff yet?" asked Al, leaning forward so he could pitch his voice low, just in case. Ed had been extremely nervous about moving in with Roy, and even after a month of living together, still hadn't seemed to settle. Al, Izumi, Winry, and even Hohenheim had all been keeping tabs on the progress and offering what advice they could. Roy figured he was just going to have to be patient and let Ed go at his own pace. He was already pretty far outside of his comfort zone. Roy didn't want to push him any further than he had to.

"Not even a little bit," answered Roy with a heavy sigh. "I don't want to pressure him. I know if he feels cornered he'll run, or worse. I've suggested it a couple times, but nothing too heavy-handed. He's stubborn, so it's going to take time for him to be comfortable with the new situation. I can be patient when I need to be."

"Patience is a good thing where Ed is concerned," said Hohenheim, a "but" lingering in his tone. "But sometimes with extra-stubborn people you need to give them a little push or they'll never move from where they're standing. I understand this well. Ed inherited his extra-stubborn nature from his mother and his obliviousness to his surroundings from me. In other words, young man, you have your work cut out for you. I think, all things considered, it was a miracle Ed was so easily convinced to move in at all. Perhaps the best move at this point, however, is not for you to push but for outside forces to do so. If _you_ push him, it will make him feel, as you said, cornered. However, if Alphonse or your friends make him aware that the problem exists, it may urge him to make a move."

"It's worth a shot," said Roy with a shrug.

"I'll do what I can," promised Al with his signature friendly smile. "I like seeing you two together. Ed is happier than he's ever been, so of course I'll do whatever I can to support you two. I'm sure your friends will help too. I think half the university is shipping you two. You'll have all the helpers you could wish for. Speaking of help, though, have you heard from Mr. Hughes yet about that security video?"

"Not yet, but we can ask him when we see him later," replied Roy.

"Al, Roy, somebody with hands not covered in meat, go look through my crap and find the picnic basket," called Ed from the kitchen. "I thought I dug it out last night, but I guess I forgot."

"That's all right, I have one," Roy replied then he went to the hall closet upstairs and reached to the back of the top shelf. Unfortunately, since this particular closet was officially the "junk closet" there were several oddball items in front of the basket. Avalanche was inevitable when grabbing anything from the back of the shelves. At least this time only one of the falling items landed on his head, and the rest clattered to the floor at his feet. With a sigh, Roy set the basket aside and shoved the previous inhabitants of the closet back into their musty dungeon then carried the basket down to Ed. "Will this be big enough?" asked Roy as he set the basket on the kitchen table. "Considering how many people we're feeding."

"Hmm, you might have a point," said Ed, eyes scanning the seeming chaos that covered the kitchen counters. "Maybe we should dig out my basket too. Or maybe just grab some of those cloth grocery bags to carry the rest."

"I'll send Al to search for the other basket – since he was there when you packed he should have some idea where it is – and I'll dig out those grocery bags. I have a feeling we'll need both," Roy responded, and Ed nodded with a wince.

"We have too damn many friends. Maybe we should start picking them off. I'm sure I could whip up something lethal and undetectable to slip into their food," said Ed as he returned to whatever he had been doing with the big bowl of ground meat.

"No, love, because it would be too much of a hassle to dispose of the bodies," Roy pointed out, and Ed conceded the point. "Are you sure you don't want any help? I'm not a complete idiot in the kitchen."

"I know, but you distract me," admitted Ed, his cheeks flaring bright pink. Roy chuckled and gave him a one-armed hug and a kiss on one brightly-colored cheek. "I'll make Havoc help me when he gets here."

"I'll send him straight to the kitchen the second he walks in the door," promised Roy. He left one more kiss on Ed's cheek then headed back into the parlor where he enlisted Al to help hunt down the other basket.

By the time the rest of the posse began to trickle through the door, an insane amount of food had already been prepared and packed away neatly in the baskets. As promised, Jean was sent straight to the kitchen to make himself useful, for which Ed was very obviously grateful. Even better was the fact that Maes had brought his wife Gracia with him, and she was a wizard in the kitchen, hands down, and she was more than happy to assist.

As predicted, they'd needed to use two of the cloth grocery bags as well as both picnic baskets. All of the food had been packed in the baskets – the most impressive display of Tetris skills Roy had ever seen – and the paper plates, napkins, drinks, and other paraphernalia were packed into the grocery bags. Nearly everybody that was attending the picnic had already gathered at Roy's house, and the rest would meet them at the park. Those of the posse that were present piled into the available vehicles and headed for Riverbank Park – the park Ed had taken Roy during their first date, in fact. It was also where they'd shared their first kiss, the memory of which made even Roy blush.

Kain and Riza were waiting for them in the park's poorly-paved parking area, leaning against the side of Riza's car. Kain waved enthusiastically to hail them, and Al waved back cheerfully as they all tumbled out of their vehicles. Ed and Al took the lead, guiding them to a beautiful spot protected from the cold wind on two sides by dense foliage and a weird gigantic bronze sculpture placed there for PR reasons by the Central City Council. Not even Roy, who had a knack for looking into the hidden heart of things and an appreciation for art in in general, could understand what sort of statement the sculpture was trying make. In his humble opinion it was a fairly ugly tangle of welded metal bits, and he wasn't the least bit surprised that the city at large looked at it like a running gag that the City Council had paid so much to construct the horrible thing. But the raised brick and concrete platform it sat on at least made a good wind block, so he supposed that just this once he could overlook the idiocy the sculpture represented. _And maybe that's what the artist was really trying to say, that politicians are morons who have no business trying to dabble in art._

Roy, Jean, and Kain laid out the blankets – they needed two of them side-side to fit everybody – and once they were laid down, Ed and Al began setting out the food. As he worked, Ed began to sing a strange little song in German. When Al heard it, he smiled and started to sing along. Roy was surprised that Ed, who had a slightly rough speaking voice, could have such a sonorous and soothing singing voice, but Al's warm tenor surprised no one – even his speaking voice gave the impression of a closet choir boy.

"That's a lovely song. Is it a lullaby?" asked Gracia as she handed the next food container to Ed.

"It is," answered Ed with a sad little smile. He set down a framed picture of a beautiful brunette woman whose smiling eyes were perfectly reflected in her youngest son Al, her fire and beauty reflected in her eldest son Ed. By all reports, Trisha Elric had been a remarkable woman, strong yet kind and so determined to raise her sons well. She had been a single mom working two jobs and yet had continued to take an interest in their studies, bake treats for them, and tuck them in at night. Ed had told Roy that even after Ed taught himself to cook to take some of the burden off of her, she had continued to make sure they had hot breakfast on the table every morning and cakes and cookies to celebrate their successes. She'd still made sure to be there when they needed consoling, help them when they couldn't do it alone, and stand for them when others stood against them. To Ed, and probably to Al too, she had been a hero and an angel, and her influence continued to make them stronger to this day. "Our mother sang it us whenever we got hurt or had a nightmare. It's really repetitive, but it always did the trick and calmed us right down. The same verse is repeated over and over:

 _Froh zu sein bedarf es wenig  
Und wer froh ist, ist ein König_

 _Froh zu sein bedarf es wenig  
Und wer froh ist, ist ein König _

"It means, ' _It takes little to be happy; And he who is happy is King._ ' It's meant to be sung in a round and normally the tempo is supposed to be faster, but mom always sang it real slow and soft like a lullaby, so that's how we do it too." Ed sighed at the end of his explanation, his smile just that little bit sadder. "The fact that most of our lullabies were in German is all Hohenheim's fault, but I guess it was more fun that way."

"What was that other song she used to sing all the time?" asked Al, setting out the last container then gesturing for everybody to sit. "The one that you always made a face at . . . the one with all the sheep . . ."

"Oh, yeah, um . . ." Ed sighed again and scrunched up his nose for a moment, but then he started to sing, a blush riding high in his cheeks.

 _"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,  
Der Vater hüt die Schaf,  
Die Mutter schüttelts Bäumelein,  
Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.  
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf!_

 _Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,  
Am Himmel ziehn die Schaf,  
Die Sternlein sind die Lämmerlein,  
Der Mond, der ist das Schäferlein,  
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf!_

 _Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,  
so schenk ich dir ein Schaf  
Mit einer goldnen Schelle fein,  
Das soll dein Spielgeselle sein,  
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf!" _

"Yeah! That's the one!" exclaimed Al happily. "For some reason, the words were on the tip of my tongue but I just couldn't recall . . . well, even if you didn't like it, I always did. You used to always say it was weird."

"It _is_ weird," snorted Ed. "Who the hell would want to play with a sheep – except for shepherds and perverts?"

Even though everyone else stared in confusion, Hohenheim let out a deep belly laugh at his eldest son's assertion. "I always thought it was a bit strange too, but my grandmother used to sing it to me, so I taught it to your mother along with the other lullabies. In fact, that's how she finally got the hang of speaking German, from singing lullabies and children's songs to Edward when he was a baby. She took to calling him _kleinen igel_ – 'little hedgehog' – because he was so prickly on the outside, but soft in the middle. He still is."

"That's got to be the most accurate description of Ed I've ever heard," guffawed Maes, everyone else laughing with him while Ed grumbled.

"I'm seriously thinking about spitting in everyone's food," he muttered.

"So, what's the translation of this mysterious sheep song?" asked Gracia, as amused as the rest of them but kindly holding back her laughter behind a demure smile.

Ed sighed one more time then sang the song again, this time in English:

 _"Sleep, baby, sleep,  
Thy father guards the sheep,  
Thy mother shakes the little trees,  
There falls down one little dream.  
Sleep, baby, sleep!_

 _Sleep, baby, sleep,  
The sheep move through the sky,  
The little stars are the little lambs,  
The moon, is the little shepherd,  
Sleep, baby, sleep!_

 _Sleep, baby, sleep,  
I shall give you a sheep  
With one fine golden bell,  
That shall be thy playmate,  
Sleep, baby, sleep!"_

"Aaaaaaw! It's so sweet!" cooed Gracia. "One of these days, you'll have to teach me some of these songs. I'm sure Elysia would think it's fun to hear songs in another language."

"Speaking of Elysia, I'm surprised she's not with you today," commented Roy, and Maes's face fell into a comically bereft expression.

"My precious beautiful angel is spending time with her grandparents for the day," he said, pouting in the most ridiculously immature way imaginable. "We won't pick her up until morning. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight without hearing my perfect angel's dulcet tones say 'I love you daddy'. She's so cute when she says it and her little nose wrinkles up and she's smiling like-"

"Moving right along," interrupted Edward firmly with a dark scowl for Maes, effectively cutting off his burgeoning rant.

"And speaking of people not here," began Roy. "Where are Pinako, Winry, Izumi, and Sig? I'd have thought for sure they'd probably beat us here."

"Nah, they're running behind," said Ed, waving it off. "They hit a traffic jam on their way back from picking up Pinako. They said to start eating without them, but the Goril- . . . er, _Winry_ said to start eating without them, but to make sure to save them some. She's promised egregious bodily harm if she gets here and only finds crumbs. Luckily, I made plenty, so there shouldn't be a problem leaving leftovers. And yes, Breda, the food is all in the disposable Tupperware so you guys can fight over who gets to take home whatever's left after you locusts descend on it."

"All Hail the Science God!" cheered the "starving" college students.

"I spoil you guys so much," said Ed, shaking his head in amused despair.

"We appreciate your beneficence," said Falman, and Breda and Fuery bowed like worshippers. Ed laughed so hard he almost fell over backwards.

"I guess if this whole science thing falls through, I could open a restaurant and make a mint," chortled Ed. "We could call it Ed's Temple, and people could come from miles around to worship my mighty cooking skills."

"Allow me to be your first worshipper," said Breda, his hands clasped under his chin as if he was praying, making Ed laugh harder.

"Al! Ed! Uncle Van!" called a female voice, and they turned to wave at Winry and her Grandma Pinako as they approached. With them was Izumi and Sig, the pair who had home-schooled Ed and Al and then raised them after their mother died.

Winry had long bright blonde hair, blue eyes, and the figure of a pin-up girl, but in that cheerleader-worthy body beat the heart of a brilliant biomechanical engineer. In fact, she was Ed's mechanic and had been working on his automail since she was a teenager. Her grandmother, Pinako – a short, ancient, sassy woman who took guff from no one – was the automail mechanic who had first installed Edward's automail. It helped that she was a friend of their family. The Elric boys and Winry had been trio ever since they could crawl. Pinako had raised Winry after her parents died overseas, and had also helped raise Ed and Al. Now Winry was Al's girlfriend and Ed's closest friend – despite the way the two argued.

Izumi was slender, and yet under that smooth, ageless olive skin she had the sleek musculature of a world-class athlete – and with good reason. She was a martial artist feared in the martial arts community, even as her work as a physicist was admired in the science community. Her dark hair was in dreads, but bound back into a half-assed pony tail to keep it from her face. Her dark eyes were fierce and sharp, yielding not an inch of ground to anyone they fell on, and her rare smiles were no less fierce. But she had a softer side too, one she mostly reserved for small children and for her mountainous husband Sig. Her husband looked like a one-man football team, huge and heavily muscled, towering over pretty much everybody. His thick dark hair and shaggy dark beard made him look wild, but underneath his stoic demeanor was a certain spark of kindness in his eyes. It was easy to see the pair reflected in their wards, the Elric brothers often displaying both the hard edges and the hidden warmth – more hidden for Ed than for Al.

"You got here just in time to snatch food for yourselves before the vultures can pick it clean," declared Ed as the new additions to their group sat down on the blankets. Izumi paused to clap her hands together and bow her head reverently to the picture of Trisha Elric, and when she lifted her head there was a sad but fond smile on her face.

"I'll never get over how much of her I see in you boys," she said as she claimed her seat at last. Her husband put a plate together for her, selecting her favorites without needing to be asked. Such small gestures were how he showed how much he cared for his wife. "Ed got the shape of her face, and Al got the content. His eyes are a spot-on match."

"Yeah, he lucked out there," said Ed, grinning at his brother proudly.

They all left their offerings of dark pink roses all around the propped up picture of Trisha Elric, and Pinako and Izumi each set down additional framed photos on either side of the one the boys had brought. The one Pinako had brought showed a group of strangers along with a younger Pinako, younger Trisha, and younger Hohenheim. They were all dressed in coveralls and smeared with grease, wearing grins like they'd just won the Olympics. The picture Izumi had brought showed Ed and Al as children wearing karate gi and holding up trophies proudly, their mother standing between them with a hand on each boy's head.

"Oh my goodness Ed! You were so precious!" exclaimed Gracia. "You both were! I'm sure your mother was very proud."

"No shit," snorted Ed, blushing brightly. "She showed pictures of us around to almost everybody. She was almost worse than Hughes sometimes. She took pictures of us almost every chance she got. I don't know what happened to most of them."

"They found their way to me actually," said Hohenheim, and both Ed and Al stopped short to stare at him in disbelief. "She would send them to a friend of ours in Germany who would hold them until I could create an opportunity to visit safely. She would send me letters to let me know how you two were doing, and of course I was able to follow your academic achievements on my own. I didn't even know she had passed until almost a year later when I went to retrieve letters and pictures as always, and there was nothing there. I contacted Pinako, and she told me the news. I still have all of those pictures and letters though. Our friend in Germany is still holding them for me, but I know he would send them to me if I asked, if you boys would like to go through them sometime."

"Wow, yeah, definitely," said Al, while Ed didn't seem to know what to say. Roy reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

After the shock of that revelation had faded they all finally dug into the food, and the stories flowed easily from those who had known Trisha while she lived. Those not in the know asked good-natured questions and offered stories from their own childhoods. Even Roy, who had been raised by his Aunt Chris, had a few tales to tell to entertain and generally amuse. It was all very pleasant for all that it was the equivalent of a "wake", and they all enjoyed the comfortable company and warm conversation. Even Ed was enjoying himself, though it was obvious that he was chilled to the bone despite the ample disposable hand warmers they had all but covered him in.

Then suddenly Ed stopped what he was saying mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly even as his body went rigid. "Ed, honey, what's wrong?" asked Roy carefully, which, of course, drew everyone else's attention to Ed too.

"We're being watched," he replied in a strained whisper. Izumi and Al needed no more prompting than that to jump to their feet and look around.

"I see him," said Izumi then she took off running, moving with a speed that should have been impossible for a woman her age. But Izumi was a martial artist first and foremost, and what she lacked in size and youth she more than made up for in years of diligent training.

Rather than follow Izumi, Al took up a protective position at his brother's back while the rest of them closed ranks around Ed as if to hide him. They may not all be completely aware of what was going on, but they could read between the lines well enough. They knew something wasn't right, and they knew who the target of that nebulous danger was. The question was, would they really be able to protect him, and who were they protecting him from?

Izumi returned to them with a thunderous expression, and they all knew before she even spoke what she had found – nothing. "He got away, and I didn't see him well enough to provide any sort of description. What about you, Ed? Did you get a god look at him?"

"No," said Ed, his whole body trembling – though whether it was from the cold or the tension, Roy couldn't say.

"Maes, I think it's time we get a look at that video," said Roy decisively. "Ed, let's get you home. I'm sure nobody will mind if we don't stick around to help with the clean-up."

"Of course," said Al kindly, wrapping his arms around his brother to hug him tightly. "We'll clean all this up and meet you back at Roy's house. 'Kay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," said Ed absently. He hadn't blinked once since mentioning that they were being watched. Roy just wished he could do or say something to ease Ed's obvious fear, or to at least keep him from spinning out. But he felt a bit out of his depth. He simply didn't have enough to information to make any promises one way or another, and he didn't to lie either. With Ed that sort of thing always came back to bite. But maybe the problem was part of the solution.

"When we get home, I'm going to call Chris and see if she can dig up some information for us that might help us figure out what's going on. You know there's no better information network anywhere," offered Roy, and that seemed to help. Ed relaxed slightly and nodded, letting Roy help him to his feet and usher him to the car. "It's gonna be all right, love. We'll figure this out. We would never let anything happen to you."


	5. Moving Heaven and Hell

**A/N:** All right, so I didn't manage to ask to ask preggers for help. I'm still editing all on my lonesome. Also, still bed-ridden and suck typing on this torture device called a laptop. I've been trying to MacGyver some kind of way to bring my proper computer in here, but as yet have been unsuccessful. By the way, this chapter isn't great, just so you know. It has its moments of intrigue and fluff, but it's mostly a very necessary filler chapter. Next chapter, however, will be super crazy and maybe even a little smutty . . . sorta kinda. You know me, I'm no good with smut, but it's at least a little more smutty than in the last story (on of my readers called the scene in my last story "fluffy smut" and for some reason that made me laugh so hard I almost fell out of my chair; I still get a giggle every time I remember it - I love it, seriously, that was awesome *still LMAO and don't know why*). Anyways, enjoy (oh and read the end note if you want a giggle)!

Chapter 5

 _Moving Heaven and Hell_

As soon as they got back to Roy's house, the first thing Roy did was run a warm bath for Edward. They needed to warm up his automail ports as soon as possible, and hopefully a nice hot soak would give Ed a chance to pull himself together. Roy wished he could get in the bath with Ed, if for no other reason than to offer a bit of extra comfort, but their friends would be arriving soon, and Roy had a phone call to make. So, Roy stayed in the bathroom long enough to make sure Ed was comfortable and had a warm towel and clean clothes waiting for him then headed downstairs.

Pulling out his cell phone, Roy didn't even need to bother searching for Chris in his contacts. He simply dialed her number from memory. " _Roy boy, to what do I owe the pleasure_?" she greeted him when she answered.

"We've got a problem," said Roy without preamble.

" _We've all got problems, kid. You're going to have to be more specific_ ," she retorted dryly.

"Ed has a possible stalker that bears a striking resemblance to somebody who kidnapped and tortured him five years ago," explained Roy succinctly. "So, yeah, like I said, we've got a problem."

" _Hang on, back up_ ," demanded Chris, shock suggested by her tone. Roy told her what little he knew about the incident and its perpetrator, fighting to keep his explanation as strictly factual as possible. But it was damn hard to stay objective in this particular instance. This was Ed – _his_ Ed. Even the thought of somebody hurting his angel filled him with a coiling, seething rage. " _So, I take it you need info, am I right?_ "

"Yeah, for now," replied Roy, suddenly feeling very drained. "If this turns out to be a definite threat I'll want to negotiate some kind of protection for Ed, but I'm hoping it never comes to that. And this couldn't have come at a worse time. With the Fall Festival coming up, the campus will be overrun with guests and visitors. Security is a lot more relaxed this time of year. They don' really bother to take note of strangers because there's just too damn many of them."

" _Well, lucky for you guys, I still owe Ed a couple favors, so I won't charge you for my services this time,_ " said Chris, and Roy breathed a sigh of relief. His Aunt Chris may technically be his former guardian and last living family, but that didn't mean he was going to get anything from her for free. Info wasn't cheap to come by, so it was never free to hand out, and there was no such thing as a family discount. However, Ed had leant Chris his computer skills and she'd promised him favors in exchange for his considerable assistance. " _As for protection, I think some of the boys might even be willing to do that for free on their downtime. Everybody here loves your blonde beauty. He's practically our bar's mascot. Where's Ed now? I need to talk to him before I get this started._ "

"He's in the bath trying to thaw out. You know how hard the cold is for him, and we've been sitting out in the cold for the last couple hours," Roy answered, already heading toward the stairs. "Hang on, I'll go see if he's out of the bath yet." It turned out that Ed was still in the bath, but rather than get out, he had Roy put the phone on speaker.

"Hey Madame, I take it Roy gave you the run-down of our new mess," said Ed, leaning his elbows on the side of the bathtub so he could lean closer to Roy. "If you need details, check on your computer in the folders that were installed with the re-enactment model. There should be a file specifically titled ' _Stalkers_ ', and inside is two sub-folders called ' _Jailed_ ' and ' _At Large_ '. Our boy should be in the ' _Jailed_ ' folder. Everything is in there including his background, psychological profile, the details of the case, pictures of both admissible and inadmissible evidence, documentation of the court proceedings, and a few details about his current cell mate. His data points should already be plugged into the model. Just don't mess with the stuff I password-protected. That shit is encrypted for a reason, and I even threatened a judge to keep that shit off the record, so you know I ain't kidding when I say leave it be. I love you madly Chris, but some secrets I'll take to my grave one way or another."

" _Damn kid, you never cease to amaze_ ," said Chris accompanied by the sound of typing. " _When you dig up dirt on somebody, you don't do it halfway. If you ever get bored with the science thing, you'll always have a job opening with me. Your knack for investigation could earn you top dollar in my line of work. And I don't mean the brothel – though, if I'm being honest, you'd make serious sugar there too. You'd be ready to retire to the high life after five years. But, putting that aside, I'll go through all this tonight and talk to Maesy about the security tapes from the grocery store. I'll call you when I get find out something worth knowing._ "

"Just let me know if the cost of the work exceeds our previous arrangement," said Ed, taking Chris's employment offer with a grain of salt like he always did. He knew better than to get worked up about it, and took it for the compliment it was. If such an offer had come from anyone else, though, his reaction would have required ambulances and possibly a SWAT team. "As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you Madame. Oh, and we need to talk later about Thanksgiving too, but I can call after business hours for that."

" _Sure, Angel, just give me a shout later and we'll talk turkey_ , _especially if you're fixing it_ " promised Chris.

"That proposition is on the table," said Ed, smiling despite himself. Chris laughed at the bad pun then they all said their goodbyes and hung up.

"How are you feeling? Warmer at least?" asked Roy, kneeling beside the bathtub and combing his fingers through long hair that became a darker antique gold while wet.

"A bit calmer I guess, but still working on the warmer part," said Ed with an unhappy sigh.

"I'll turn on the heater in here on my out," Roy promised him, and Ed gave him a weak but genuine smile of gratitude. Roy left a kiss on the top of Ed's damp head then went downstairs to continue waiting for their friends' arrival, making sure to keep his promise and flip the switch to start the overhead heater in the bathroom on his way out.

Their friends arrived in clusters based on who opted to carpool with who, and they all made sure to bring their A game. Laptops and tablets were open all around the room, and Maes had brought a VCR with which they could watch the security tape from the grocery store. "I have a friend at my university who has a device that digitizes VHS recordings," said Al, already pulling out his phone. "I know Ed will be happier having his own digital copy. We might even be able to improve the picture quality if we have a digital format to work with."

Al stepped into the kitchen to make his phone call while Kain got started setting up the VCR. "Would it be all right if I go up to check on Ed?" Winry asked Roy shyly. "I just want to make sure his ports are all right after sitting outside in the cold for so long."

"Sure, but let me make sure he's not still naked first, all right?" replied Roy with a dry half-smile. Thankfully, Ed was out of the bath, and was actually sitting on the edge of the bed carefully drying every nook and cranny of automail. He had to be very mindful of things like rust or corrosion, and despite Winry's assertions to the contrary, Ed took his automail maintenance very seriously. He may forget to eat or ignore the need for sleep or otherwise disregard his health, but he never ever failed to keep his automail clean and oiled. "Hey, love, Winry wanted to come in and have a look at your ports. She's worried about how long you spent out in the cold."

"That's fine," said Ed with a weary sigh. "Let her in. There is actually a little bit of swelling, so it won't kill me to let the gorilla take a look."

"I thought you were looking a bit tender," said Roy with a sympathetic wince for his lover. He had seen how hard the automail could be on the body, all the times the flesh swelled around where the flanges contacted the skin; all the days when the rain made Ed's bones ache around the screws and plates that strengthened the body's natural infrastructure in order to support the weight of the prosthetics; and the moments Ed suffered through the ache or itch of a limb that was no longer there. Roy only wished there was more he could do to ease Ed's burdens. Certainly the younger man had far too many.

"You say there's swelling?" asked Winry, poking her head through the door.

"Yeah, but it looks like it's more just irritation than strictly because of the cold," Ed answered then he looked up at Winry with a surprisingly grim expression. "It might be time to start discussing the final size upgrade for the ports."

"Oh shit, Ed, are you sure?" she asked, fully entering the room with a worried frown furrowing her brows. One of many reasons that it wasn't usually recommended for children or teenagers to get automail was that they were still growing. They tended to outgrow the mountings and flanges anchoring the ports, and sometimes the ports themselves, requiring them to undergo surgery all over again. Also, the plates and screws attached to the bones could sometimes become problematic as the bones grew, requiring yet more surgery. Automail surgery was an extremely traumatizing and drawn out process that required one to three years of physical therapy, bed rest, and pain management to recover from. Having to go through it more than once was a terrifying prospect.

"Maybe not this month or next month, but soon," said Ed unhappily. "For now, the cases of inflammation are infrequent, but once that starts up it's only a matter of time. I'll start making arrangements to take a semester off just in case, but if we can hold off until I finish my current doctorate I would prefer it."

"We've got some new ointments and injections available that might help us delay it a bit longer," offered Winry, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We can discuss it with Granny when she comes back for Thanksgiving."

"Sounds like a plan," said Ed with a grateful smile.

Winry set down her big orange toolbox then crouched in front of Ed, taking the towel from him so she could take over drying Ed's automail. Once the limbs were dry, Winry got to work oiling the joints while she had Roy rub some sort of lotion into the irritated skin surrounding the automail. Roy went one step further and also carefully massaged the muscles around the ports, earning a happy, relieved sigh from Ed. "So very not just a pretty face," said Edward with a lopsided grin for Roy before kissing the end of his nose. Roy wrinkled his nose for a second then grinned back at his lover.

"One does what one can," Roy said with mock-humility, leaning in for a brief but warm kiss – properly on the lips this time. "I should go check on everybody and make sure none of our pack of dogs have started gnawing on shoes or messing up the furniture." Roy left with Ed's wonderful laughter following behind.

Downstairs, everyone had finally gathered, most sitting on whatever chairs or sliver of couch space they could find and the rest ending up on the floor. "How'd it go?" asked Al, looking up from the laptop that was resting on his legs.

"He's fine – a little tense, but fine," replied Roy, and Al looked relieved.

"Good," said Al, relaxing marginally – and he wasn't the only one. Everybody in the room seemed to unravel a bit. Ed's show of fear in the park had really gotten to them. After all, as far as they knew, Ed was fearless. He faced everything head on with a grin or grimace but never with fear. A frightened Edward was entirely foreign to them.

Ed finally came downstairs to join them, a pensive Winry trailing close behind. He was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt that was big enough on him that it was a safe bet it was one of Roy's. In fact, Roy was pretty sure the baggy flannel pants Ed was wearing were his too. He didn't mind at all – in point of fact, it was somehow incredibly sexy. "Uh-oh, I think Roy is experiencing a 'boyfriend shirt' moment," chortled Heymans. Al, Winry, and Jean all laughed, getting the reference. Kain and Roy both blushed, though for two entirely different reasons – Kain because he was too innocent and Roy because he wasn't innocent enough. "I would say it's cute, but I don't want to die today – or any day really."

Ed blushed, but chose to ignore them, instead going to his messenger bag and pulling out his laptop, a notepad, a pen, and a small portable hard drive. He folded himself neatly down onto the floor at Roy's feet, happily tilting his head up when Roy leaned down to steal a kiss. "All right guys, down to business," said Ed, instantly flattening the previously lighthearted mood. "Al, cue up the tape. Fast forward to the point where you see me walk into the store then let me know."

"What will you be doing?" asked Al, already picking up the remote for the borrowed VCR.

"I'm going to go through our database of creepers and douches so I can pull up any photos we have of B . . . t-that whack job then use Photoshop to see if I can adjust his appearance a bit – you know, age him up," Ed explained distractedly. "Because the guy I saw in the store looked like the same nutbar, but scruffy and worn out. I'm going to make his picture look scruffier so I can compare the altered image to the guy I saw in the store."

"While you do that, I'll call my contact in the penitentiary and try again to get answers from him," said Riza, getting to her feet and pulling out her cell phone. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen." That left the rest of them of them to wait while Al fast-forwarded through a week worth of boring shoppers going about their boring, everyday business.

Roy suddenly heard a strange sound coming from Ed's direction, but not one that was easily identifiable, plus it only lasted a second or two. Roy chose to ignore it since, aside from fidgeting a bit and frowning at the laptop's monitor, nothing seemed to be wrong with Ed. A minute later, Roy heard the sound again, and this time Ed's frown had deepened considerably and he was chewing on his bottom lip fairly hard. The sound had been almost like a cross between a growl and a whine, but very quiet and brief and easily missed. Before Roy could fully figure out what was going on, Al jumped up from his seat and darted across the room, snatching the laptop off of Ed's lap. It was a measure of Ed's distress that instead of protesting or cursing, as he normally would have, he ducked his head to hide behind his hair.

"There's no point in torturing yourself like this Brother," said Al gently, closing the laptop and crouching down in front of Ed. "Just write down a description of the alterations, and I'll adjust the image for you, okay?"

"Y-yeah, Al, that would be better," said Ed softly. "Thanks."

"Sure, Brother, no problem," said Al, patting his brother on the leg before returning to his seat. "Mr. Hughes, would you please take over cuing up the tape?"

"I guess I'm still feeling a little edgy, and I just couldn't take looking at that . . . that _face_ ," said Ed with a moue of displeasure. Ed hated nothing so much as he hated his own weakness. Roy ran his fingers through Ed's still-damp hair to soothe him.

"Well, how about a distraction then?" suggested Winry with a determined sort of cheer. "I hear the dean is making you participate in the festival this year?"

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Ed, frowning.

"It wouldn't be the talent show would it?" asked Winry, arching her eyebrows at him and looking like she didn't know whether to be worried or amused.

"Oh, you mean the soul-sucking hell from which there is no escape, then yes, that would be the one," replied Ed, frown deepening. "It's either that, the fashion show, or the Beauty and the Beast pageant. It's the least of the three evils."

"Doesn't Dean Grand know your track record for that thing?" asked Al, quirking an eyebrow at his brother.

"Yes. Yes he does," replied Ed, his head dropping into his hands.

"What? Does he get stage fright or something?" asked Heymans, confused.

"No, I can stand up in front of people and show off all damn day if I want to," said Ed without lifting his head. "The question you should ask is if I fucking _want_ to."

"Yeah, last year, Winry did the talent show to make Ed feel better about the whole thing, but he still backed out in the end," said Al with a disapproving stare. "He told the professor running the talent show that he had developed 'an acute case of anal glaucoma'."

"Do I even want to know?" asked Jean with a wince.

"Symptoms include not being able to ' _see'_ my _'ass'_ getting on that stage," snorted Ed, and Jean burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that sounds like something Ed would say," chuckled Pinako.

"I'm totally going to use that to get out of class," chortled Jean.

"Don't bother. They're wise to the ruse now," said Ed conspiratorially. "Tell them you have _doctrinae angioedema_. In other words, learning gives you hives." Naturally, that made Jean laugh harder – though he slyly asked Ed to text it to him. "Try not to use it on a science teacher. They'll call your bluff. And speaking of science, was I hallucinating, or do I have you in my Idiot Physics class next semester?"

"Yeah, I have to get a couple more science credits for my general education requirements. I'd heard good things from Heymans and Kain after they visited your class, so I figured, what the hell. Why not?" said Jean with a shrug, and to everyone's surprise, Ed blushed a little. "I gotta tell you though, signing up for it was like fighting against the mafia. Did you know you have a fan base? Dude I thought I was going to get my eyes clawed out for taking that slot!"

"Yeah, science nerds aren't that rowdy, but the people from other majors can get a little . . . um, desperate, I guess," said Ed uncomfortably. "All the other poor bastards teaching the Gen Ed science classes are geezers or ass holes. Most of them are pissed about getting stuck with a Gen Ed class, feeling like it's beneath them or some shit. So they give the students a rough ride to make themselves feel better. I'm an asshole too, but that's more like my natural state than for any particular reason. And I don't take my misfortune out on my students. I treat my babies fairly. I mean, shit, I'm still a student too, so I get it. You know? The students in the other majors kinda flock to my Gen Ed classes because they feel like they can relate to me better, and I don't treat people differently based on their majors. Everybody gets a fair shake. Except for the fine arts majors . . . gah! Those loons! They only take my classes so they can fucking _draw_ me, so I give them extra work so they don't have time for that shit. Those fucktards chap my ass."

"Makes sense," admitted Jean, and Ed nodded with an easy smile.

"But I'll tell you this now, you may be my buddy and all, but nobody gets special treatment. Not even Al did, and he's my baby brother," Ed told him frankly, "I don't even call my students by their names for the first part of the semester. You've gotta earn that shit. Every ounce of respect is earned through hard work, but even if you tank, as long as you're sincerely trying, I'll always help out. I've never let anyone sink that was actually willing to swim. Every single kid who's tried has come out of there with at least a C."

"So, let me ask you this," started Jean with a dry half-smile. "If you don't call students by their names, what do you call them? 'Cause I seem to remember that your naming sense ain't the greatest."

"Wow, Havoc, you may set a record for failing before the class even starts," said Ed sweetly. "I'll call ya whatever I feel like calling ya and you'll suck it up buttercup. In fact, that may be what I call you . . . Nobody gets spared from the horrible nicknames, but impressing me on the first day earns a slightly less embarrassing one. The three guys who always sit in the back row are a prime example. Cornbread, Stinky Pants, and Gas Mask. So, Stinky Pants thought he was stealthy enough to drop ass during class and not get caught. Considering how many people were in there, he might have gotten away with blaming somebody else for that eye-watering odor, but two things happened. One: I noticed the guy next to him had fashioned a temporary gas mask using a piece of paper, some loose string from the seam of his bag, and a couple paper clips. He'd coated the inside with medicated chap stick to cover the smell. Pretty fucking clever. I was impressed. Two: A guy two seats over on the other side suddenly shouted, 'Oh my God! It smells somebody died eating Doritos and cornbread and was left out for a week!' I was not impressed. But I could hardly blame him. It was an accurate description. So, you see how this works? Hell, Stinky Pants still ain't earned his name. If that twit doesn't straighten up soon, he ain't gonna make the cut, and I won't have a drop of sympathy for him."

"Ed, you're dodging the topic again," said Winry, and Ed groaned miserably. "What are you going to do about the dean's demands? I think you should quit fighting it and just do what you have to do. It could be a lot worse, and at least it's better than wearing a dress."

"I know! But what the fuck am I supposed to use for a fucking talent?" demanded Ed angrily. "It's not like I have any talents worth showcasing." Suddenly everybody stopped and turned to look at him with matching expressions of disbelief. "What?" he demanded, meeting their flabbergasted stares.

"Ed, honey, darling, cupcake, light of my life, please tell me you did not just say you don't have any talents," said Roy very slowly.

"What? It's true isn't it?" retorted Ed, quickly becoming uneasy under their wide-eyed scrutiny. The room echoed with the sound of multiple face-palms.

"I'm sorry Roy, if I had realized he was _this_ oblivious, I would have enlightened him sooner," apologized Al as Roy ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it was too soon for it to go gray. "Brother, listen to me, you are probably one of the most _unfairly_ talented people on the planet. It's appalling to the rest of us plebeians how talented you are in so many areas. I'm not just saying that because I'm your little brother. I'm saying it because it's true. I think everybody here will agree with me on that." Ed didn't look convinced at all, but when all of them nodded emphatically to corroborate Al's assertion, his entire face turned stop-sign-red. "How about we make it easy? Why don't you and Winry work together and do your old dance recital routine? That was seriously awesome, and I know Winry would be willing. You guys know the routine so well you wouldn't even have to practice that much. I mean, come on, think of what she went through last year just to get you on stage. Compared to _that_ , swing dancing will be a piece of cake, and it's something you both have fun doing. Right honey?" Al looked over at Winry who gave a thoughtful nod.

"What did she do last year?" asked Kain, and Winry's thoughtful expression turned into a heated scowl.

"She wore a bustier and sang _'Cause I'm A Blonde'_ with a couple of the other chicks from engineering as back-up vocals," said Ed, giggling. "It was hilarious!"

"Winry was less amused," said Al darkly, and Ed sobered, shuddering.

"I'll think about it," said Ed at last with a heavy sigh. "I want to give myself a couple days to explore my options and settle my head around the idea of my utter humiliation before making a decision."

"Video's ready," interjected Maes, diverting everyone's attention.

"Let 'er rip," said Ed, sounding steadier than he looked.

The camera's view was stationary and looked down from the store's high ceiling, encompassing a clear view of five aisles. They all saw Ed walk into view wearing his favorite red hoodie and with his distinctive gold ponytail glinting in the fluorescent lights. He had a basket over one arm and was perusing the shelves slowly as if looking for something. Then, suddenly, Ed froze in place, head whipping around. At first, nobody that was watching the video could see what had startled Ed, but when they rewound it and watched it again, Maes spotted a hint of movement at the end of the aisle Ed was wandering through. The Ed in the video simply shook his head, shrugged then kept walking into the next aisle over. They saw a flash of movement as the hidden watcher followed, always staying out of sight at the end of the aisle and only moving into view when Ed had his back turned. Ed eventually made his way toward the deli at the edge of the camera's view. However, halfway down the aisle he froze a second time, and this time they all saw the cause of Ed's distress. The man was once again at the end of the aisle, and he was walking past in a way that made it very obvious he as trying – and failing – to look casual. Ed backed up until his back bumped up against the shelves, and even with the poor picture quality of the video they could all tell he was having a panic attack. Maes stopped the tape and rewound it again, this time trying to pause the tape at a point where they could get a better look at the guy they suspected had been watching Ed. It wasn't a great picture, but it was better than nothing.

Ed put on his reading glasses and moved in closer to the screen, squinting at the poor-quality picture. Maes and Al moved in too, Al bringing the laptop with him and looking from the monitor to the TV screen and back again. The man on the screen was wearing a bet-up green army coat, a tattered T-shirt and baggy jeans. He looked almost gaunt, his hair lanky and greasy and his jaw covered in patchy brown stubble. They couldn't see the eyes clearly enough to tell their color, and really they could only get a rough impression of his facial features.

"I'm sorry Ed, I can't tell," said Al, frowning apologetically. "The image is too pixilated. But we can make a digital copy and try to improve the image quality."

"One way or another though, I think we've firmly established that somebody really is stalking Ed," said Maes, for once entirely serious. "I think we need to-"

Riza's return interrupted him, and she was wearing a grave expression that had them all tensing in anticipation of her pronouncement. "Two weeks ago, the prison where Booker was serving his sentence had a major plumbing issue – their water main broke – and for security reasons they transferred the prisoners from that section of the prison to another prison until the repairs could be completed," she began, speaking slowly and carefully even as her fists clenched. "During the transfer there was an altercation and three of the prisoners escaped. One of the escapees was Robert Booker."

"No, no, no, no," whispered Ed, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them as he began to rock back and forth. They could hear the metal of Ed's automail creak as if it was under strain.

"Brother," said Al, approaching Ed as cautiously as one would approach a ticking bomb. "Edward, it's going to be all right. It won't be like last time. We know what to expect now, and the precedent set by his conviction will give you grounds to request police protection if you need it. Plus, we can set up an escort for you like we did during the Ouroboros case so you don't have to go anywhere alone."

"I can't go through this again Al. I can't," whispered Ed, finally looking up. There was a sort of raw, visceral fear in his eyes, his expression that of a hunted animal. Roy could never have conceived of seeing Edward so terrified. Ed was the poster child for bold pride and bluster. He didn't do fear, not visibly at least. He was far too well-versed in the art of looking strong even when he was at his weakest. He had been his family's pillar for most of his life, and it was heartbreaking to watch that pillar crumble before their eyes.

To everyone's shock, it was Hohenheim that finally reached out to Ed, wrapping his oldest son in his arms as if he were a child who had woken from a nightmare – a sadly accurate description, except that none of them would be waking from this nightmare anytime soon. To everyone's further astonishment, Ed allowed his father hold him, turning his head and burrowing into the man's broad chest. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again," promised Hohenheim, his voice as quiet as ever and yet all but crackling with resolve. "We're going to keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

"Hey, Ed, I know you dismantled most of the equipment we built for when we invaded the Ouroboros lab, but do you maybe still have the ear-cams?" asked Kain nervously.

"Yeah," answered Ed, lifting his head as if catching onto Kain's train of thought.

"I know we didn't give them night vision, but they switch over to infrared when the light's too low, and they're already set up to send video straight to your laptop," continued Kain, gaining confidence as he continued. "We could set them up around the house to monitor the entrances and as much of the outside of the house as possible. Maybe we could even build a few more for inside. What do you think?"

"I think you're brilliant! They're in a box upstairs. And we wouldn't even really need to detach them from the microphones since that'd give us audio surveillance too," said Ed, some of the fear ebbing as a slow grin spread across his face. Hohenheim released him and stepped back enough to give Ed room to get to his feet, even offering a hand to help him up.

"Sig and I will install them for you," Izumi declared, her no-nonsense tone leaving no room for argument. And no one would argue with her on this point anyway. After all, Izumi and Sig had been the ones to teach Ed and Al everything they knew about defending themselves, not only with martial arts but also by setting traps, creating disguises, masking their movements, and tracking possible threats. There was no one better to set up their home security.

"Riza, would you mind terribly calling your friend back and getting a more current picture of the perv? I want to give it to campus security so they know who to look out for," requested Ed, already heading for the stairs.

"Sure Edward, and if he doesn't want to give us what we need, there are other means at our disposal," she said with a fierce light in her eyes. She was in full mama bear mode. Heaven help the idiot that tried to so much as sneeze on Ed now because there was not a soul on Earth that would be able to save them. "With your permission, I would also like to contact the detectives in charge of your case five years ago. Were they here in Central or was it handled by detectives in your hometown, since that was where you were when you were kidnapped?"

"Actually, the sheriff back home handed it off to the Feds as soon as he got a whiff that it had been a kidnapping. Before that, they had been pretty much brushing it off," Ed told her, his words edged with disdain. "They didn't even look for me when I went missing. If I hadn't rescued myself . . . well, Al and Teacher probably would have found me eventually, but really there's no telling. If they'd have had the help of law enforcement I may not have had to rescue myself."

"That's true, and to be honest, I feel as if you should have sued them for dereliction of duty. Their negligence could have gotten you killed," said Riza, some of her hidden fury rising to the surface.

"I'd thought of that at the time, but honestly, I just wanted the whole thing to be over so I could get my life back finally," Ed explained wearily. "I had already dropped one of my majors, taken a semester off from school, moved back home to get away, plus I was imprisoned by that perv for a week then got hospitalized for my injuries afterwards. It was a lot of upheaval in a very short period of time and don't even get me started on all the shit that went down during the trial. I was so done with all that shit by the end of it. I don't think I could have handled adding a lawsuit to all that drama. Speaking of the law, though, I should call Roach and Murray. They're detectives, so they should be able to put us in touch with the Feds. At the very least I want to ask the Feebs why nobody could be bothered to fucking call me and notify me that Booker had escaped. Isn't that procedure or whatever in this sort of case? Shouldn't I have gotten a shout out from the U.S. Marshalls?"

"That's true," said Riza exchanging a look with Maes, her fellow law student, who nodded his confirmation. If anybody would know about law enforcement procedures, it would be them. "Many things have been handled poorly in this case, it seems. I think it's time somebody poses these questions to those who should be answering them."

"If you're wanting to look into all that, be my guest. I'll e-mail you the rest of the information from my case so you have all the facts, and I'll call Roach and Murray so they can help you out," said Ed, sounding even more tired than before. Ed sighed then got up and found his cell phone, returning to his seat with the ancient flip phone already open in his hand. He called Detective Roach, one of the two detectives who had helped them with the Ouroboros case, and while he was explaining things to the detective, Sig and Izumi were going over the house with a fine-tooth comb and coming up with ways to make it more secure.

When they were done with their assessment, they grabbed the box of "ear-cams" that were left over from their raid on the Ouroboros labs. The ear-cams were about the size of a tube of lipstick and wireless, connecting directly to a small microphone, and both were attached to a piece of plastic-encased wire that could be bent and to mold itself to the head and hold it place more securely. A strip of Velcro was also attached to the rig which would wrap around the throat to stabilize the whole thing and make it even more secure. Ed had designed the rig, and Paninya, Falman, and Kain had helped him build them. They looked like something right out of _Mission Impossible_ or _James Bond_. There were ten of them altogether, and Roy hoped that would be enough to suit their new purpose.

"All right, so, I talked to Roach," said Ed, sounding a bit irritated – and maybe a little disconcerted too. "I tried to tell him I'd come by to talk to them tomorrow, but after I told him what it was about, he insisted on coming over tonight. Him and Murray will be here in twenty minutes, if not less."

"Jeez, what did you tell them?" asked Roy, surprised by the announcement.

"I told them about B-Booker, and that he's an escaped convict. I told them that I have him on video stalking me at the grocery store, and that I'm the reason he was convicted and that the bastard is obsessed with me," replied Ed, clearly trying to sound casual but falling just shy of the mark. "Roach also said that he's glad I called them before starting any – and I quote – 'black ops Batman bullshit'. He even made me promise not to do anything CIA-like until they got here." That got a laugh out of everybody in the room. They all remembered all the gadgets and such that Ed had come up with to help them take down Ouroboros – mini cameras, vibration sensitive microphones, non-lethal bullets that electrocuted on impact, super magnets, a tricked out spy van he called "the control tower", and even an EMP cannon mounted in the back of a butcher shop delivery van. And that was only what he'd created for the lab raid. It was proof, if proof were needed, that it was never wise to piss off a super-nerd. The cops were smart to be wary of Ed, especially when Ed had his hackles up. "Um, Roy, can I talk to you privately for a minute?"

"Sure, we'll be right back guys," said Roy as the pair of them got to their feet and went into the study. As he closed the door behind them, Roy commented, "You know, we really need to take a day or two to finish cleaning up in here so you can finally put all of your books away." As far as hints went, it wasn't subtle, but Ed's slight wince told him that it'd hit the mark.

"We'll see how everything goes," said Ed evasively, and something in his pained expression set off alarm bells in Roy's mind. "Roy, I just want to say a couple things, and I want you to hear me out before you say anything, all right?" Roy was uneasy, but he nodded nonetheless. "First, I'm really sorry about all this. When you went on that first date with me, I'm sure the last thing you expected was to get caught up in all this drama. First there was Ouroboros, and now there's most likely a dangerous stalker on my tail, and there's a chance you could get hurt. I . . . I don't want anything to happen to you, and I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you safe – no matter the cost. That being said, during the course of this new drama, you may hear some, uh, things . . . some really bad things that have h-happened. I don't want you to look at me any different because of them. It would tear me apart if you lost respect for me or pitied me. I just don't want you to see me as . . . _less_. No matter what you hear, I'm still the same guy you took out on that first date. Just please . . . _please_ promise me that you'll be the same too."

"Of course, Ed," said Roy softly, folding his arms around his lover and pulling him close to his chest – close to his heart. "I swear to you Ed, I will never ever lose any of the respect I have for you. Even if your past is a tragedy, it's already in the past. The damage is done, so the person you are today isn't any different just because I find out how you got to this point. If anything I might think even more highly of you for having survived harsh experiences and yet still turning out to be the amazing person you are today. So you don't need to worry about my opinion going anywhere but up. To me you are, and will always be, amazing. As for your apology, it's completely unnecessary. I'm hardly going to complain about getting to participate in your 'black ops'. It's a man thing. What man wouldn't drool at living out boyhood spy fantasies? People shell out big money to have this kind of fun. And on top of all that, having you here means getting laid more often, and a little drama is a small price to pay for that particular slice of heaven."

"You're such a man-ho," laughed Ed, rolling his eyes.

"Only for you, sexy" purred Roy archly, waggling his eyebrows, and subsequently making Ed laugh harder. Roy basked in that laughter and slid his hands down to grab a double handful of perfectly shaped derriere. "So what if Helen of Troy could move armies. That ass of yours could move _heaven and hell_. Lord only knows it brought me to heel."

"Then heaven and hell can wait their turn," said Ed, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm otherwise occupied."

"Ed, there isn't time for hanky panky before Roach and Murray get here," called Al through the door.

"I swear that kid is psychic," grumbled Ed with a heavy sigh of regret. "We'll save the end of this conversation for later."

"You bet your ass," said Roy, swatting the ass in question on its way by.

Ed laughed again, looking back at him over his shoulder. "Isn't that sorta the point?"

Roy rolled his eyes and laughed with him as they returned to the parlor. When the two detectives arrived, Roy served them coffee while Ed laid out the story for them, starting with the stalking five years ago and ending with the picnic and the discoveries made thereafter. He left out quite a few details, but even without those tidbits the story was still plenty disturbing. Needless to say, the detectives did not look pleased.

"What the fuck are those jerk-offs at the marshal's office doing?" snarled Murray at no one in particular. "It's procedure, not to mention common fucking courtesy, to call victims to inform them that their assailant has escaped from prison. Hell, you're supposed to let them know even if the fucker gets out on parole. Something about this is fishy as fuck."

"So, you must be thinking the same thing that I'm thinking," said Ed, clearly pissed but somehow maintaining his composure. "I bet you dollars to donuts there's a fucking marshal hiding outside, using me as bait to catch that perv. And I bet they kept it from me so I wouldn't get spooked and go into hiding. Al, help me find that thing we made." He pointed to his ear and mouthed the word "bugs". Al nodded even as the detectives stiffened, seeming to be just as infuriated by the implications as the rest of them. "I'm pretty sure it's in the box of leftover components."

The brothers disappeared into the study, and while they were searching the rest of the guests waited in an apprehensive sort of silence. Roy was beyond anxious, not to mention furious, that law enforcement could have been invading his privacy without his knowledge let alone consent. They had no right! And to make it all worse, there was a chance that they had set up Ed to be stalked and maybe hurt by some psycho. It was more than just cruel, it was intolerable. Roy could see a very serious law suit in their future, and oh would he make the bastards pay.

Impossibly, they all grew edgier when Ed and Al returned with a handheld device that looked a bit like a Geiger counter, or a very large ohm meter with a handle attached and a couple small antennae sticking out. The device emitted a soft sound like the white noise of static, the volume rising and lowering as they moved through the parlor, waving it around at the walls and all the nooks and crannies of the room. When the static sound sharpened, the brother's looked up at each other and Ed gestured for silence. He leaned toward the fake plant at which the device was pointing and searched it top to bottom. He finally emerged from the silk and plastic fronds with something small and round pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It was no bigger than a quarter and had a tiny wire sticking out that Roy suspected was a sort of antenna. Ed looked to Al again who nodded and darted into the kitchen, returning with an open trash bag into which Ed deposited the bug. They continued through the room and found a second bug hidden in the light fixture overhead and a third hidden under the sofa. Once all three bugs were in the trash bag, Ed crunched the bag up into a ball.

"Well, that confirms it," he said grimly. "These bugs are too sophisticated to be homemade or black market. That means they're government-made. Let's sweep the rest of the house and remove the rest of the bugs. Once we've got them all, I'll hack their signal and try to trace it back to whoever's listening in."

"If that doesn't work, there may be clues on the bugs themselves," offered Roach looking thoroughly disgusted. "We can check who they're signed out to. This sort of operation usually has a long paper trail. Even if they're doing this under the table, there's bound to be some kind of record, otherwise they could run into issues with ADA after the arrest. They could lose their jobs and face criminal charges for dong this without some kind of authorization from on high, and authorization means paperwork. Police work ain't all glamor and handcuffs, after all. It's usually about 80% pencil-pushing and only 20% nabbing bad guys."

"Sounds about right," chuckled Maes.

"Somebody needs to head outside and let Teacher and Sig know we're under surveillance," put in Ed grumpily. It was clear right away that nobody wanted to volunteer for that particular mission.

Almost as soon as he said that, however, Izumi rushed into the house holding a familiar small round object between her thumb and forefinger. It looked a bit misshapen, as if it had been crushed, but it was still unmistakable. "You'll never guess what I found."

"Bug," chorused Ed and Al.

"We've already found three in the parlor alone. We were just about to sweep the rest of the house," Ed told her flatly. "We're pretty sure the marshal's office is using me as bait for my stalker-turned-escaped-convict."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and catch those marshal bastards on camera," growled Izumi, highly disgruntled by the whole affair.

"One can only hope," said Al mildly. "Brother, finish chatting with the detectives. I'll take care of pest control."

Ed looked like he wanted to argue, but the look Al leveled on him stopped him dead in his tracks. He slumped, let out a defeated sigh, and surrendered the balled up plastic bag to his brother. Winry got up and went with the younger Elric to help her boyfriend in his hunt.

"As a matter of fact, I do have a few questions for you Ed," said Roach carefully. He waited until Ed had once again folded himself down to sit at Roy's feet. Roy reached forward and gently stroked Ed's hair, knowing that it was something that Ed always found soothing. "For starters, I'm wondering about how he managed to get his hands on you. I know you're a skilled martial artist, so is he a better fighter or was it a blitz attack?"

"It was a blitz attack," replied Ed with a little shiver. "I was walking through town, admittedly lost in thought and not paying much attention, and suddenly somebody rushes me from behind and puts a cloth over my nose and mouth. It was chloroform. I recognized almost instantly, not that it did me lick of good."

"All right, good . . . um, you know not _good_ good, but good that he's not some kind of karate god or something," said Roach awkwardly. "I assume you made one of your super spy files for him, yeah?" Ed nodded slowly. "Cool, make sure to send that to me and Murray. You usually end up with infinitely more info than us humble law abiding police officers can dig up, and we need all the info we can get. Now, just for curiosity's sake, how did you escape? Was he incompetent or did you pull something clever?"

"That . . . that's sort of hard t-to explain," stammered Edward uncomfortably, curling in on himself as if to protect himself. "I was shackled. Hand and foot. T-the cha-ains w-w-were s-so thick." Ed closed his eyes as he began to tremble from head to toe. "I b-broke my automail a-arm trying to p-p-pull the chains from the wall and t-tore my flesh wrist to shreds." His breaths began to shorten until he was almost hyperventilating, his shaking growing more pronounced by the second. "I . . . I-I s-s-splintered the metal of my wrist. W-w-when he unlocked me to . . . b-b-bathe me . . . I p-picked up the splinter of m-metal a-a-and used it t-t-to p-pick the locks on m-my shackles."

"Shit, kid," breathed Murray, his eyes showing surprise, respect, and sympathy. Worried about Ed's obviously mounting panic, Roy leaned down and wrapped his arms around the younger man. Ed flinched at first, but as Roy murmured soft promises of safety in his ear, Ed slowly began to relax again. "And you say you were there for a whole week?" Ed simply nodded, biting his lip as if unwilling to let words any more words escape. "And you were seventeen when this all happened, right? Still a minor?" Another nod.

"Damn," whispered Roach.

"So, let me make sure I have this straight," began Murray slowly, locking eyes with Edward. "A minor complained to the police that somebody was watching him and behaving inappropriately. They refused to believe it, forcing you to practically quit school and flee the city. Then the suspect that you _warned them about_ escalates and kidnaps you, torturing you for a week. Still the police did nothing and you were forced to _save yourself_. And to top it all off, you and your brother had to do most of the work to get the man convicted. Now, the asshole has escaped, and the marshal's office has given you _no notification_ of the very real danger you're in and is most likely keeping you under surveillance in order to use you as bait to catch the bastard who likely intends to once again kidnap and torture you. Have I got all this right?" Ed nodded again, some of the fire returning to his eyes. "Jee _zus_ , Ed, why haven't you sued anybody yet? If you don't, I'm doing it on your behalf. It's no wonder you had a hard time trusting us when we first met. I wouldn't have trusted us either."

"Yeah, well, you guys have proven yourselves since then," said Ed, his words quiet but earnest. "It's why I called you once we confirmed I really was being followed and who was doing the following. I knew you guy would believe me. You know I would never lie about something like this."

"Nah, Ed, you bend laws a bit here and there, but you've always been up front with us," said Murray, sincere and almost fond. "If you say something hinky is going down, I know I can expect shit to hit the fan. Once your brother and his girl finish sweeping for bugs, send them with us and we'll look into who's responsible for them and keep you in the loop. In exchange, we need you to do the same. Send us whatever you've got on this Booker creep and give us a shout if there are any new developments. Do you need us to set up a protection detail or have you got it covered like last time?"

"We're going to set up a schedule among us to make sure Ed never goes anywhere alone," Roy promised, deep resolve burning strongly in his chest. Nobody was going to hurt Ed ever again, and Roy would make it his personal mission to make sure of that. "But it probably wouldn't be a bad thing to have a patrol drive by the house, lab, and diner periodically just to be on the safe side."

"I'll text you my schedule so you'll know where I'm supposed to be," Ed put in.

"You should also make sure that your dean is aware of the situation," added Roach. "He may be able to arrange additional support from campus security. If you change your mind about police protection, just give us a call and we'll hook you up. In the meantime, as soon as you send us your schedule we'll set up a regular patrol. Though I think when we leave here, the first thing we need to do is contact the marshal's office and also have a little talk with the patrolman responsible for taking your original report. I'd be very interested in hearing what he has to say about all this."

"Thanks, guys," said Ed, his smile small yet all but radiating warm gratitude. "I mean it. I really appreciate you guys stepping in like this. Hell, even if you end up not being able to help, the fact that you believe me means a lot." Ed sighed, a haunted look flitting across his face like a passing shadow. "I think that was the worst part last time. It takes a lot to frighten me, and even more to make me admit I need help. But I was honestly scared. I was all alone in this city and I needed help, but everybody kept brushing me off, over and over again – teachers, campus security, the cops, nobody believed me. I almost started to think it was all in my head – which might actually be more terrifying than a stalker. You can put a stalker in jail, but there's not much you can do about paranoid delusions. And prodigies are usually just a short hop from madmen at the best of times, no lie. So, it would be totally plausible for me to have been losing my shit just lik all the other geniuses before me. I mean, seriously, I dare you to name me one genius who wasn't, in some way, shape, or form, crazy as a shithouse rat."

"Hm, how about Isaac Newton?" asked Kain, taking up the challenge.

"Bipolar Disorder and, later, paranoid schizophrenia – believed to be caused by mercury poisoning," countered Ed easily.

"All right, Charles Darwin," tried Heymans.

"Agoraphobia."

"Tesla," threw in Falman.

"Severe OCD."

"Michelangelo," offered Maes, smug and secure in his victory.

"High-functioning autism," said Ed, bursting his bubble. Ed let out a long sigh. "And please remember, the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski was considered a prodigy too. He entered Harvard at the age of 16." No one could counter that, and they were all fairly disturbed by the correlation unfolding in their minds. "There's no such thing as a sane genius. They're like the Easter Bunny and honest lawyers – empirically impossible. So, yeah, it was pretty easy to convince myself that I could be losing it. At the time, I was still dealing with PTSD and the University's counselor said I also had insomnia and Generalized Anxiety Disorder from the car accident and a bunch of shit that happened in high school. A psychotic break wasn't outside of the realm of possibilities. It wasn't until I got back home to Teacher's place that somebody was able to confirm that I really was being followed, and I wasn't just losing it. It's sad that I was totally relieved to discover I really had a stalker."

"That's seriously messed up," marveled Heymans, and nobody could disagree. "Well, this time you've got nothing to worry about. We've got your back, man, and we all know you're not nuts – not the bad kind of nuts anyway."

"Yeah Boss! If that bastard wants to get near you, he'll have to get through us," vowed Jean with a hearty grin, and there were cheers and agreement all around.

"And when you need a place to hide so you can unwind, you're always welcome in our home," said Gracia warmly, and Ed blushed, his smile every bit as warm as hers.

"Thanks," said Ed earnestly. "You guys are seriously awesome."

"What are friends for?" said Maes with a bright grin. Their enthusiasm, determination, and confidence was enough to make Roy believe that maybe, just maybe, everything really would be all right. They'd protect Ed and put his tormentor back behind bars where he belonged. Failure wasn't an option.

 **A/N 2:** So, my new apartment does NOT have central air and heat. We have window units for A/C. As a result the windows which house the window units are not as sealed as they should be. I had already recognized this in theory, but the theory was proven when I heard a weird buzzing coming from behind the mini blinds. I gave my window a quizzical frown, and what should I see but a hug ass red wasp emerging into my room. I should point out three very important facts . . . 1: the window unit in my bedroom is inches from my bed; 2: this means that I, being bed-ridden, am only a foot or two from the window; 3: the person I live with is deathly allergic - like anaphylactic shock sort of allergic - to wasps so there was no one to take care of the wasp but me; 4: wait, I said "three" right? I should have said "four". Anyway, its important to understand that I currently only have one good leg and can only get around with the use of a cane or crutches. Also I can't reach above my head very well, and in a room with high ceilings . . . well, the upshot is that I had to chase the wasp around the room, hobbling from landing spot to landing spot with a cane in one hand, rolled up sale papers under my arm, and a step ladder in my other hand. Every time I'd set down the step ladder and start to climb up, he'd fly off to the next spot. And the whole time, I'm cursing and spouting off various strange phrases like "Come back heathen spawn so I may slay you!" Yeeeeah, that was a weird day. I eventually emerged victorious and killed the little bastard though. And after my stunning victory, I look out my window and lo ad behold, stuck right onto the outside of my window is a wasp nest. Fantastic! After the second invasion of red winged hell spawn, I found a way to seal the window, and sometimes I'll gaze up at the nest and mock them for daring to think they could defeat me. Mwahahahahaaaa!


	6. Foot In Mouth

**A/N:** And here it is at last! I swear there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why this chapter took so bloody long to come out. The primary reason was that it was turning into the Energizer Bunny of chapters - it kept going and going. Finally, I had to 'drop back five and punt' as my father would say. I had to backtrack a bit and cut it off. Thus this has become another filler chapter - there's a little not-quite-but-sorta-kinda-graphic smut at the start of it, some fluff, and some character background stuff, but still essentially filler. However, the next chapter will be exciting right out of the gate and will stay pretty consistently edge-of-your seat - or at least laugh-your-ass-off - throughout. So, there's that . . . The other reason this chapter took so long is that there's an insane amount of RL stuff going on (two graduations, a birthday, and a wedding, plus my dad and stepmom are visiting, and it all goes down this month . . . I'mma die). And there's been a big bug-hunting spree, cuz I've been startled by two, count them TWO, spiders crawling on me on two separate occasions, plus the ants on the wall under the window, the continued wasp invasion, and the gnats which are always a problem in summer. And people wonder why I loathe summer in the south. I'm just glad I cut my hair before June bug season *shudder*. Lastly, there's the three ficsI have to write to win this stupid bet. They make me stabby . . . seriously. Lots of love and adoration for those who have written reviews and otherwise favorited or offered kudos! I'd be seriously lost in the super-stress without you guys! XD

 **Chapter 6**

 ** _Foot In Mouth_**

Roy was sleeping rather deeply when he was startled awake by abrupt movement in the bed beside him – or, more accurately, from the bed _partner_ beside him. Ed was sitting up in bed, panting and gasping and desperately trying to catch his breath. His bangs were all but soaked in sweat and plastered to his face, and his eyes were wide and wild. Clearly he'd had a nightmare. It wasn't surprising considering everything that was happening.

"Ed, are you all right?" asked Roy muzzily, trying to shake his brain free of its sleep-haze. Ed whipped his head around, his lambent frightened gaze locking on Roy. After almost a full minute of uncertainty during which Roy all but held his breath as he waited for a reaction, Ed's gaze finally softened into an expression akin to grief, and he slowly shook his head. Roy didn't hesitate a moment longer, sitting up and wrapping his arms around the younger man, holding him tightly enough that he would know that he was safe. "It's going to be all right," Roy murmured into Ed's tangled golden hair, slowly finger-combing the golden strands back into order. "I won't let anything happen to you ever again. And it's not just me. You've got a lot of people who care about you. It's not like last time where you had to face this alone. This time you've got all of us watching your back."

"I hate feeling like this. I hate remembering what he . . . what he did to me, what he said . . . but I-I can't forget . . . I've got a god damn photographic memory! I can't forget any of it no matter how hard I try! And every time I remember, I feel mortified and broken and filthy and _I hate it_!" Ed told him, his voice cracking and thick with tears he would never shed. "What did I do? Why did it have to be me? I thought I'd more than paid for what happened with mom . . . so what could I have done to deserve something like this?"

"First of all, what happened to your mom was not your fault. You made a decision she would be proud of – to save your brother rather than saving her. No parent wants to outlive their children. There is no greater heartbreak for a mother than to lose a child," began Roy, his tone firm but gentle. "Second of all, nobody _deserves_ to go through what you did, least of all you. You're a good man and one of the most dedicated humanitarians I know. You didn't deserve this at all, and it's like a knife in the heart knowing that something like this happened to somebody as amazing as you. Unfortunately, bad things happen to good people sometimes, and nobody really understands how or why. It sucks and it's heartbreaking, but that's how it is. I'm sorry."

"I'm just tired of this feeling, like no matter how many showers I take or how hard I scrub my skin, I'll never feel clean again," whispered Ed, nuzzling into Roy's neck. "Did you know that I haven't dated anybody since I was seventeen?" That was a shock. Ed was gorgeous enough to have to beat the suitors away with a stick. How did somebody so beautiful stay single for so long? "Yeah, I couldn't stand to let them touch me or get too close and nobody wanted to stick with somebody who couldn't even hug them. I tried a few times – just out to dinner or to lunch – but I always ran away before the end of the night and deleted their numbers afterward. It took a while to work through my shit, but I was finally starting to feel almost normal by the time I met you and . . . I don't know. There was just something about you. You were handsome and funny and smart and just so much of everything I wanted. My gut told me to give it a shot and, now, here we are."

"I'm glad you gave me a chance," said Roy, feeling both flattered and astounded. He was genuinely grateful not to have ended up becoming just another number deleted from Ed's ancient cell phone. And he was elated to hear that Ed had thought so well of him right from the start. It warmed him straight through to hear it and even brought a bit of a blush to his cheeks. "For that matter, I'm glad to have met you at all. You're definitely somebody worth knowing. Even if we had only ever become friends, I still would have been thankful to have met you."

"Roy, can you promise me something?" asked Ed, pulling back enough to look up into Roy's eyes, Ed's own eyes seeming to search for something – something which was life or death to him.

"Anything, love," replied Roy. "You only have to ask."

"Can you promise me that you don't see me as gross just because he f-forced me to . . ." he couldn't even finish the sentence, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and biting his lip so hard Roy wouldn't be surprised if his lip started bleeding. Letting out a soft sigh, Roy cupped Ed's face in his hands, cradling it as gently as a newborn infant, waiting patiently until Ed opened his eyes once again and looked up at him.

"Ed, I swear to you, I have never and will never see you as anything less than a treasure," Roy told him, putting a world of sincerity into his words. He needed Ed to know he meant it. _Ed_ needed to know he meant it. And Roy's message must have gotten through because suddenly Ed threw his arms around Roy's neck and drew him in for a heated, passionate kiss.

"I need you tonight," pleaded Ed in a broken whisper, and Roy had never heard him sound so desperate. "Please . . . make me feel something better than this."

"Your wish is my command," replied Roy breathlessly.

With warm kisses and soft nips and firm caresses, Roy dedicated himself to distracting Edward, worshipping him as he deserved and coaxing him toward the oblivion that he craved. It's not like it was any sort of hardship to give in to Ed's demand. It was rare that the indomitable Edward allowed himself to be pampered. He'd said once that it made him feel vulnerable, so Roy felt like the level of trust that was being placed in him was a high all its own. Ed, so headstrong and so very stubborn and proud, was suddenly entrusting his most vulnerable self to Roy. How could Roy feel anything but incredibly privileged?

Roy reveled in the taut perfection of well-toned muscles beneath honey-gold skin and the lust-glazed glow of amber eyes. He eased his beautiful Edward toward climax again and again, the heat building in his own body until it was almost excruciating. Finally ready to take his own pleasure at last, Roy paused to once again admire the angel in is arms. Edward was wrecked and unraveled and entirely glorious – a debauched golden deity on a stained linen throne – a promise of fire and bliss fulfilled to perfection.

Little by little Roy sank carefully into the inviting body beneath him, trembling with ecstasy when he was finally fully encased by that delicious heat. He held still for only a moment, luxuriating in the sensation of being so deeply connected to the man who already held his heart in his steel fist. Edward let out a soft mewling sound, imploring, begging, even as he wriggled a bit to encourage Roy to move. Roy grinned to himself and captured his lover's lips, moving at last, letting Edward decide the pace – after all, tonight was all about bringing Ed some modicum of peace. He deserved it if anyone did. As they both finally cried out in completion, Roy could see that he had indeed achieved that goal. Ed was all but sprawled out, looking thoroughly replete and content.

"I can't help but wonder how I got so incredibly lucky to be here in bed with you," said Roy, quiet with exhaustion but no less sincere.

"You're such a sap," said Ed hoarsely with a tired chuckle, even as the pink in his already flushed cheeks darkened to red. Ed never was one to accept complements easily, but it was fun to give them if only to see the shy blush in his cheeks and hear his flustered denials. It was way too adorable to resist. And, anyway, Roy had genuinely meant it – as he always did. At times like this, he felt like a holy pilgrim who'd left camp to find a bathroom and had instead stumbled across the promised land – in other words, overjoyed and caught off guard and perhaps a little undeserving of his incredible luck. Ed turned his head to look him in the eye, his gaze once again searching for some hidden puzzle piece. "I'll never get what it is you see in me. Really, as much as you stare at me, I'd think you would have noticed by now that there isn't much to look at – just a beat up nerd with more scars than skin and more baggage than an airport at holiday rush. It's a miracle a pretty boy like you even noticed someone like me."

"The miracle isn't that we're together, it's that I can actually keep my hands off of you," retorted Roy frankly. "Seriously, you're the most enchanting person I've ever seen. If I had my way I would spend all my time in this bed with you and only get up for food and bathroom breaks – or maybe just bathroom breaks. Food can be delivered." Ed led out a small burst of laughter at that, and Roy couldn't help but grin for a moment. He would never get tired of that sound. "I just wish you could see what the rest of us see, because – trust me – the rest of us think you're breathtaking."

"But seriously Roy," said Ed, looking Roy squarely in the eyes again. "Even if what you say is true – and I'm not conceding that point, I have a mirror, I'm not blind – you've done so much for me, and you were already out of my league to start with. It just . . . worries me sometimes. I feel like I'm getting something I haven't earned, and because I haven't earned it, it'll be that much easier to lose."

"But Ed, it's not like there's a ledger for tracking favors for friends and loved ones. It's only natural to want to offer support when you love somebody . . ." Roy stopped, eyes going wide and brain stuttering to a halt. Did he just say _love_? Yes, in fact he did. It wasn't a topic they had even started discussing yet. It wasn't any less true, of course. Roy was pretty sure he'd loved Ed madly from day one. However, Ed was very skittish when it came to matters of the heart, so Roy had been afraid to bring it up. He didn't want to scare Ed off.

"Did you just . . .?" asked Ed dazedly, eyes as wide as Roy's.

"Yes, yes I did. The foot in my mouth is, in fact, mine," replied Roy with a sigh of resignation.

Much to his surprise, however, Ed didn't flinch or withdraw or get angry or any of the things Roy had thought he might do. As per usual, Ed did something Roy never could have expected. Roy suddenly found himself rolled over onto his back with Ed sitting astride his hips and Ed's hands on either side of his face, one hand of heated flesh and one of cool metal. "Roy, listen, I know you're probably secretly freaking out right now, but it's all right. Really," said Ed, as gentle as Roy had ever heard him. "I mean, I know I don't show it very well, and I'm definitely not much for saying it, but I-I love y-you too, so . . . it's all right to say it, if you . . . you know, mean it."

Roy was at a loss for words. Really, there was nothing he could say in response. He had never dreamed his feelings for the cagey young prodigy would be reciprocated. He thought for sure he was going to have to scratch and claw and fight with everything he had in order to get Ed to love him back. Suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to celebrate his victory, Roy lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Ed's waist, dragging him closer and holding him as tightly as he could. He kissed every inch of that beautiful face, earning himself a round of breathless laughter and half-hearted protests. "How'd I ever get so lucky?" Roy repeated once he'd subsided, still snuggled close.

Ed let out a soft chuckle and kissed the end of Roy's nose. "Such a sap."

Roy laughed with him. "Yeah, but I'm _your_ sap."

The next day was Saturday, so there were no classes – thankfully. However, Ed had to work extra hours at the diner to make up for the taking the previous day off for their little memorial picnic. Ed probably wouldn't have minded so much, except that there was some kind of birthday party being held. Roy's heart went out to the sleep-deprived genius. He'd discovered during his time with Ed that although children and animals seemed to be mysteriously drawn to Ed – Al called it "Disney Princess Syndrome" – Ed himself was not usually a fan. He made exceptions occasionally, such as with Hughes' daughter Elysia, but generally children made him uncomfortable and cranky.

Roy was at least able to offer some small consolation to Ed, promising to come by for the second half of his shift and bring him a treat to cheer him up. Jean had agreed to be Ed's escort for the first half of his shift, but when he had to leave for football practice, Roy would take over Ed-watching duties. Having heard about the birthday party, Al had promised to visit him too – if only to prevent a massacre.

Roughly around noon, Al and Hohenheim showed up at Roy's house and offered him a ride to the diner. He didn't mind not having to drive, even though the diner really wasn't that far away. Roy thanked Al then packed up his books so he could get some studying done and headed out to hop in the van. Roy did, however, make sure that they stopped off at the convenience store along the way so he could pick up a handful of Ed's favorite candy bars to comfort the beleaguered genius. He'd promised Ed a treat, and he wasn't about to let him down.

As soon as they walked through the door of the diner, Roy was suddenly bum-rushed by a rather desperate blonde who hugged him tightly and whimpered, "Make it stop! For the love of all that's holy and caffeinated make it stop!"

"I'm sure the party won't last much longer," Roy said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I don't give a flying fu-ah . . . uuun and games for the whole family yeehaw," said Ed, beginning with a growl and ending with a very pitiful tone that made him sound like his soul was dying before he directed the woman who'd just entered with her birthday-present-toting child to the rest of the crowd of rowdy ankle-biters. "Kill me. Kill me now," Ed said, deadpan but sincere.

"Now, Ed, it can't be _that_ bad," said Al, trying to sound positive for all he was worth, but the look in his eyes said that he knew it was a lost cause.

"Al, if ever there was a reason outside of chromosomes or whatever for me to be gay, _they_ would be it," Ed said in an angry undertone.

"Come on, Ed, what's so bad about kids?" asked Al, still trying even though a particularly loud shriek from among the ankle-biters made even his eye twitch. Ed, for his part, twitched from head to toe.

"Other than poor volume and/or impulse control, pervasive stench of various unsanitary substances and bodily fluids, and the general all-consuming drain on financial, mental, and emotional resources, I can't think of a single thing," Ed replied with particularly venomous sarcasm. With a sudden show of fatherly wisdom, Hohenheim reached into his pocket and pulled out a little unopened packet of disposable foam earplugs. "Oh my God! I think you just made it onto my Christmas list! Holy shit!" Ed snatched them form his hand, looking like he might even be considering hugging the man. He may even call him "dad" at this rate.

Roy would laugh at the scene, but he knew better – and really hated sleeping on the couch. Another shriek made Ed flinch, and he hastily put the ear plugs in his ears then smoothed his hair down so they wouldn't be obvious. "Are we sure we don't still have the tranquilizer gun lying around somewhere?" asked Ed hopefully. Roy smiled in sympathy and shook his head. "Ah well," said Ed with a sigh of resignation, his shoulders slumping. Roy chose that moment to pull out one of the candy bars he'd bought, and Ed grinned in instant delight as he snatched it out of his hand then slipped it into his apron pocket. "You're awesome! The awesomest!" he declared, kissing Roy on the cheek. "Come on, Havoc's already got a table away from the worst of the noise."

Jean was sitting in a corner booth on the opposite side the diner from the carousing kid brigade, and he'd apparently had the same idea as Roy, his school books already laid out in a messy heap across the tabletop. He greeted the three newcomers with a weary wave and began stowing his mess away in his book bag while the others took their seats. Ed brought them coffee and water then took out one of the earplugs long enough to take their orders before hurrying off to deal with some of his other customers.

"Aside from the obvious homicidal urges, how is he holding up?" Roy asked Jean quietly. Jean didn't even have to ask to know which "he" Roy referred to.

"He's been a little jumpy, but otherwise you'd never know anything was going on," Jean told him with a shrug. "And I made sure to tell that cook guy – the broad-shouldered guy with the salt-and-pepper hair and the eye patch – what's going on. I remember Ed saying once he was handy in a fight, and I figured he might be able to help us keep an eye on Ed while he's here at the diner. He agreed to walk Ed out when he needed to go out back to take the trash out."

"Good idea," praised Roy. He'd met the cook, Fritz, a few times, and he'd always seemed like a good guy. He was a bit mysterious, what one might call "a man of few words", but he was an overall amiable sort of guy and smarter than one would imagine considering the man's occupation. Most importantly, Ed and Al seemed to trust the man, and that was all the character reference Roy needed.

"Well guys, if you've got this, I'm gonna head out so I can get ready for practice," said Jean, leaving a tip for Ed then slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Call me if you need anything or if anything comes up." Ed waved goodbye to Jean on his way out then approached their table again.

"Your food will be out in a minute. Is everybody good on coffee?" When everybody at the table nodded, Ed turned to leave, but Roy caught his hand to give it a brief reassuring squeeze. Ed gave him a tired but warm smile, his cheeks coloring a soft pink before he finally headed back into battle.

"Poor Brother, he just can't seem to catch a break," said Al with a heavy sigh. "Nothing ever seems to go easy for him. I just wish there was more that we could be doing. It's so frustrating!"

"I know," said Roy, empathizing all too easily. "But, really, I think just being here for support makes a huge difference to Ed. He won't reach out when he needs a hand. That's not his way. But he will take a hand if it's offered to him, so we have to take that first step so he'll be able to meet us halfway. Later, as we dig deeper into the case, we'll be able to be more proactive. But for now, we're giving him what he needs most – offering him the hand his pride won't let him ask for."

"You're right," said Al, sighing again. "And speaking of Ed's pride, he would never forgive me if I tanked any of my mid-terms because of all this. Or, rather, he would never forgive himself. He would totally blame himself. The same goes for the rest of you. If any of us start falling behind in our classes because we're too busy helping out Ed, he'll never get over it. He hates being a burden."

Mostly it was a fairly uneventful "watch". The kids cleared out after a couple hours, leaving everyone in the diner to breathe a sigh of relief. Ed took the opportunity to take his meal break and sat down at their table with them, commiserating about the _joys_ of children. He had just finished eating and was about to put his plate in the bus tub when somebody all too familiar walked through the door. As soon as he spotted the intruder, Ed let out an undignified little squeak, looking like he was about to jump behind the counter to hide.

"Elric!" greeted Grand in surprise. Anybody looking at Ed could tell what thought was running through his mind: " _Busted_." "So this is your other job, eh?"

"Yep, this is me living the glamorous life of underpaid servitude," said Ed, slumping with a sigh. "I'm off break!" Ed called to the other server on shift with him, and she nodded with a little wave to let him know she'd heard. "Come on Boss Man, this way," said Ed, guiding Dean Grand to a table in his section. "Funny you should walk in since I needed to talk to you about something anyway. I was gonna wait for Monday, but sooner is better. Seriously though, what are you even doing here? I'd imagine a place like this wouldn't be your sort of scene."

"Nonsense," said the dean, as he took his seat. "I was at work and realized that it's dinner time. I've heard a lot of good things about this place from students and staff, and since it's so close I thought it'd be a nice change." Grand looked up from the menu Ed handed him and noticed Hohenheim then. "Good evening, Professor Hohenheim. I take it you are here visiting your eldest."

"Yes, sir," said Hohenheim with an affable nod of greeting. "And I am also helping my youngest study for his mid-terms. Alphonse, this Dean Grand of whom you've heard so much. Dean Grand, this is my youngest son, Alphonse."

"I've heard nothing but good things about you, Alphonse. It's a pleasure to meet you," said the dean, and Al gave him his friendliest smile.

"I've heard a lot of cussing about you from Ed, but I get the sense under all the swearing there's a grudging sort of respect," said Alphonse, snickering at his brother who rolled his eyes. "It takes a lot to earn Brother's respect, grudging or not. It's nice to have a face to put to a name."

"So, Boss Man, what can I get for you?" asked Ed, pulling out his order pad.

"To drink, I'll take a coffee and a large glass of ice water," began the dean, looking down at the menu again. "What would you recommend for food, though?"

"Really, all of the sandwiches are good, since we get our bread fresh from the bakery every morning, and the meat is fresh from a local deli. But, honestly? I'd suggest a burger. The things our cook Fritz can do with a hamburger patty should be illegal," Ed told him, and Grand nodded with a little half-smile.

"How's your bacon? I know some places have that paper thin pre-cooked bacon, and that's never worth the effort of chewing," continued Grand, and Ed grimaced in agreement.

"I know exactly what you mean," said Ed, nodding sagely. "But, no, ours is the thick-cut bacon. And the cheese is the real deal too. There are three kinds to choose from. For a bacon cheeseburger, I suggest cheddar, but that's just my personal preference – and you can get more than one cheese, if you're feeling adventurous."

"Well, I _am_ feeling adventurous today, so I'll have a bacon cheeseburger with cheddar and swiss . . . and, you know what, let's make that _extra_ bacon. If I'm clogging my arteries, I may as well go all out. And an order of onion rings on the side," ordered Grand, and Ed scribbled it down with a grin. "Also, Professor Green was adamant that I absolutely _must_ try a milk shake, so I'd like a vanilla milk shake for dessert."

"Sure thing," said Ed, pulling off the ticket before sliding the order pad into his pocket. "Just don't expect me to be this accommodating back at CU. I'm only this nice when they pay me to be."

"So, if I add 'be nice' to your job description, will your attitude at the University improve?" asked Grand dryly, and Ed let out a raucous peel of rich laughter.

"Not a chance in hell," chortled Ed. Grand chuckled and shook his head to himself. Ed gave him a cheeky grin and a little salute. "But I'll be right back with your coffee."

"So, am I correct in assuming that you're the not-so-secret/secret boyfriend?" asked Grand, looking up at Roy with a dry half-smile.

"You would be correct," replied Roy, inclining his head as if to take a bow.

"Hmm, I see. Elric makes no secret that he has someone and that the someone in question is the cause for the recent change of address noted in his academic and employment records at the university, however, he has always refused to tell anyone who it is. I believe there is even a betting pool going as to the identity of Elric's mystery-lover. He says only that he's a student in the science department. Elric is adamant that he doesn't want the relationship to influence either of their reputations in the scientific community – something about not wanting to tarnish the man's reputation or some other such rot . . . _your_ reputation, as it happens." Grand smiled as if both amused and secretly frustrated. "I believe his exact words were, 'don't want to paint him with the same brush as a known delinquent'. I can somewhat understand his caution. He is a well-known wild child. However, I believe the greater fear would be scrutiny and expectations that would arise from close association with him."

"Yeah, as soon as you get labeled as a prodigy, people start expecting things from you," cut in Ed as he set a cup of coffee on Grand's table. "One of those expectations is that the only people you'll associate with are fellow geniuses. They put you on a pedestal and expect that everybody you make friends with is on a pedestal at least as high as yours, otherwise they think your slumming or just hanging out with someone lesser to make yourself look good. They don't expect geniuses to be able to have healthy relationships with anybody that could be viewed as beneath them. Either they think you're taking advantage of the lesser individual or the lesser individual is taking advantage of you. In other words, sugar, if you aren't the next Einstein then others in the scientific community are going to think you're not worthy of me. They'll either vilify you or treat you like the village idiot no matter what you do. They'll compare us to each other, and one or the other of us will come out a loser in their eyes one way or another. It's better for all concerned if I just keep my private life private. And anyway, you're brilliant, and I won't have those jackholes saying you're anything less than that just because you didn't graduate high school in two years or earn your first degree before the age of eighteen or any of my other accomplishments they've blown way the hell out of proportion. You deserve to be judged on your own merit. End of story."

"Which is why I never pressed," said Grand with a slight nod of acknowledgement. "I've always understood the difficulties of those stuck standing in spotlights. It's never really a comfortable or happy place to be. It's usually best to avoid dragging those around you into the light with you and spare them the discomfort."

"Yep, got it one," said Ed with a sigh. "Anybody else need coffee, by the way?"

"Sure, love, I could use another cup," said Roy, setting his empty cup at the edge of the table so Ed could reach it more easily. Ed gave him a small smile and left a kiss on top of his head before hurrying off to refill his coffee.

"Are they always this sickening?" asked Grand, his tone more teasing than disparaging.

"Oh, absolutely," snickered Al. "It's adorable!"

"Now, unless I'm mistaken, you have something of a reputation of your own around campus, my boy," said Grand, suddenly turning a piercing stare toward Roy. "Not only are you poly-sci's prodigal son, defecting to physics rather unexpectedly, but you're also something of a legendary heartbreaker."

"I won't lie, I do have that reputation, however unearned it may be," admitted Roy, years of practice making it easy to keep his expression polite and his tone neutral. "Mostly my reputation is built on rumors and speculation with few facts to prove any of it. It has come in handy a time or two, but mostly it has caused more trouble than it's worth. I suppose I'm lucky that Ed never bothers to give rumors any credence otherwise I fear I never would have stood a chance."

"Indeed," chuckled the dean. "Despite the cursing and devil-may-care attitude, our Edward is, in many ways, virtuous enough to send priests running for confessionals. I would almost dare call it naiveté, but he's too old a soul for that. Even his disregard for rules and authority are only inasmuch as such things contradict his immovable moral compass. Whereas others will follow rules blindly and call themselves righteous, Edward is more likely to simply follow what he knows to be right and wrong regardless of what the rules have to say about it. It tends to leave those of is in positions of authority with something of a quandary – whether to uphold correctitude or integrity, law or justice. I have come to find that in general it's best to give him his head. He may not always follow the rules, but he can be counted on to invariably do what's right. As long as it doesn't lead to lawsuits, it's best to let him do as he pleases. Others can't be trusted with the same degree of latitude as they would abuse the privilege, but I have little doubt that Edward will always put his students first – whether it be their safety, their education, or their general wellbeing – and I know I can always count on his loyalty to the University as a whole. People marvel that I allow a subordinate to talk back to me the way he does, but what they call sass I call candor. Such honesty, loyalty, and integrity are rare gifts and should be encouraged rather than smothered."

"I had wondered why he's been able to get away with his rather . . . colorful interactions with you," said Hohenheim with a tired, almost indulgent, smile. "I admit, I had begun to hold my breath every time he opened his mouth in your presence."

"Oh, no, you have no cause for concern," dismissed the dean with a deep belly-laugh that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. "When I first took over my position, you'll recall that I interviewed all of the members of the faculty. When I spoke with Professor Elric, I could tell that he was holding back. He was watching me very closely as well, like a wild animal watching its newest captor. I was disconcerted to say the least. It wasn't until I goaded him into speaking plainly that I learned of the previous dean's . . . indiscretions. I had been told very few of the details until then, and I'm grateful to Edward for making me aware. After he had told me the tale, we came to something of an understanding. He knows now that I expect him to always tell me the truth, and in exchange I do the same. The only stipulation is that he not curse in front of the trustees or other officials – though I was sorely tempted to allow him to curse at the accrediting board."

"I warned you they were douches," pointed out Ed as he placed a plate on the table along with a bottle of ketchup. "Just let me know when you're ready for your milkshake. You don't want it to melt while you're eating. It'll taste better if I make it fresh when you're ready for it. Next time you come in I'll have to make you try one of the malts or Italian sodas – or both. I even made a coffee shake once when I got bored and my cup of coffee had gone cold. It was to die for – for real."

"Hmm, that does sound very tempting," admitted Grand honestly. Roy couldn't help but agree. Maybe they could pick up some ice cream on the way home and make some coffee milkshakes of their own. Grand took a bite of his bacon cheeseburger and his eyes rolled back in his head. As soon as he'd swallowed his first bite, he told Ed, "I see what you mean about the burger being illicitly good. I'll have to tip the cook as well as the server. Whatever they pay him, it's not enough."

"I know, right?" chuckled Ed. "I'll let him know you like it. And don't forget that I still need to talk to you. I'll take a break when I bring you your milkshake. Enjoy your meal, and flag me down if you need anything."

Grand went back to his culinary bliss, and Roy and Al returned their attention to studying. By the time Grand was done eating, Roy and Al were both a bit antsy – and probably Hohenheim was too, even if he didn't show it. They all knew what Ed was going to talk to Grand about, and they were all anxious to see how the new dean would respond. He seemed to have a lot of respect – almost affection – for Edward, but they still didn't know the man well enough to predict his reaction. It was particularly worrying since this would be the second time that Ed would be bringing trouble to the university. The situation had the potential to go very, very badly.

"So, out of idle curiosity," began Grand after he'd finished the last bite of his burger and moved on to the onion rings, "Professor Hohenheim, both you and your youngest son seem to be fairly calm and collected individuals. Where did Ed pick up his temper and cursing habit?"

"Surprisingly, his temper comes from his mother," said Hohenheim with a wistful chuckle. "She was always a spitfire when her hackles were up. The boys didn't see that side of her very often, because she refused to be overly cross with them or to discipline them while angry. However, while she was in college, she was known for being stubborn and outspoken, and even got violent if provoked. The cursing, however, I'm not too sure about. That happened while I was away."

"That part of the answer I know," said Al, grinning. "There was this diner in our hometown where our mom used to work – it was her day job, and she worked as a nurse at night. We'd sit there during her shift sometimes to do our schoolwork. Ed always finished his work first, mostly because he didn't care if his work was legible as long as it was correct. Our Teacher, Izumi, hated that, which was why Ed never corrected it. He swore it was for revenge, but he was never entirely clear what he was getting revenge for. Those two are like two tom cats fighting over the same alley on their best day. Our mom used to say that they were both contestants in The World's Most Stubborn competition, and they were fighting for first prize. Anyway, two of the diner's regulars were a pair of army vets, and they took a shine to Ed and would treat him like he was a cross between their comrade and a grandkid. They used to call him Sour Patch – like the candy. Sweet on the inside, but so sour on the outside most don't bother trying it out. Those two vets cussed a blue-streak, though never where mom could hear them. Ed eventually learned not to cuss where mom could him either. The first time she heard him, she tanned his hide. She wanted to wash his mouth out with soap, but Ed gave her this big long speech about the Geneva Convention and the possible harmful side-effects of the chemical makeup of the soap she intended to use."

"It was all bull shit, but I laid it on so thick and with such sincerity that my mom couldn't come up with a counter-argument. She settled for a spanking and grounding me for a week," added Ed, chuckling with a sadly reminiscent smile.

"So, what is it you needed to discuss with me?" asked Grand as he pushed aside his empty plate and accepted the whipped cream topped milk shake Ed slid over to him. Ed set down a straw for him as he took a seat across from the dean. Roy didn't need a spoken cue to know that Ed was going to need moral support for what was coming next. Without needing to be asked, Roy got up and grabbed his cup of coffee then moved to sit next to Ed who offered him a smile in silent gratitude.

"I really don't know any good way to put this, so I'm just going to come out with it," said Ed grimly. "A few years back, I was kidnapped by a stalker. He was sent to jail, but recently he's escaped and now he's been spotted stalking me again. I honestly have no idea if things are going to get as bad as they did last time, but this time I at least have plenty of people around me to support and protect me. I didn't have that last time. I was basically on my own. I just wanted to make you aware of the situation, for security reasons. Tomorrow, I'm going to put up posters with his picture and the phone number of the marshals and detectives handling the case. Hopefully, somebody will spot him and call it in before he can hurt anybody."

"How dangerous is this man?" asked Grand, his mouth drawn down into a hard frown. "Not to sound insensitive, but is he dangerous to only you or to others around you? I ask because it will have an effect on how we deploy campus security until this man can be arrested."

"Honestly, I'm not sure," said Ed, biting his lip nervously. "He's an erotomaniac, meaning that he has delusions that we share some kind of special connection or relationship, so he feels entirely vindicated in his behavior. He has convinced himself that he is stalking me in order to keep me from being lonely and to 'protect' me from those he perceives to be dangerous to me. Like most erotomanic stalkers, he falls into a class of stalker known as the _intimacy seeker_. This means that his primary goal is to get closer to me and to initiate physical and emotional intimacy with me." Ed's explanation was entirely clinical, but halfway through he began to grow paler, his words quieter. When he began to tremble, Roy put an arm around his shoulders and drew him closer. "Sir, this guy is smart. He already has a BA in engineering. He was working on his PhD when I met him. He also seems to have some sort of knowledge of basic investigative procedures because he's disturbingly good at covering his tracks. I had to rescue myself when he kidnapped me. He's just _that_ good."

"So, you are the object of obsession, but that is not to say that he will not attack anyone he believes is getting too close to you, is a threat to you, or has insulted you," clarified Grand, and Ed nodded slowly. "Not to worry, Elric. I'll call a meeting with campus security first thing in the morning. Do you have a picture of this man available right now?"

"Not with me, but I can e-mail it to you when I get home," Ed replied, and Grand nodded.

"Good, I'll circulate the photo among the security guards and our faculty and staff," said Grand decisively. "I would suggest concentrating a majority of your posters in and around the Science Department. If he is lurking around the campus, that is where is likeliest to be found. After all, if it is you he is focusing on, he will know that you all but live in the Science Department buildings and will go there in search of you."

"I was pretty much thinking the same thing," said Ed, biting his lip again.

"I will also make sure that there is a security guard posted at the entrance of the lecture halls and labs while you're teaching or taking your classes. He will escort you to and from your lab, classes, and office," offered Grand.

"Some friends and I also arranged a schedule so that I have one of them with me at all times and I'll never need to go anywhere alone," added Ed, and the dean nodded with a look of approval. "That's why Roy and Al and Hohenheim are here now. I worked a double today, so I had one guy hang with me for the first shift and these guys for the second shift then I can just ride home with Roy. That reminds me, Roy, we need to hit the grocery store on the way home. I'm meeting up with those culinary arts chicks tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning them. You're supposed to teach them the art of the perfect pie crust in exchange for more recipes to fatten me up with," said Roy, already looking forward to sampling the new goodies. "Do I get to be the taste tester during this little meeting of the minds?"

"Who better? Though, I'm tempted to call up Breda too. He can eat more than you can," said Ed with a chuckle, and Roy couldn't help but kiss his cheek. "Yeah, yeah, I'm awesome. Too bad I'm not into the housewife gig or you're life'd be all roses right about now."

"It's all roses already," Roy murmured giving him another kiss, this time on his temple, reveling in the lovely blush that colored Ed's golden cheeks. "Go ahead and get back to work love. We can work on the grocery list later. I rode in with Al and Hohenheim, so we'll have to pick up the car before hitting the store."

"We can just take you to the store," offered Al brightly. "We need groceries anyway."

"Now that's settled, get back to it so we can do the same," said Roy with teasingly admonishing glare.

"All right," agreed Ed with mock-exasperated sigh, turning to kiss Roy on the end of the nose before rising gracefully then rushing off.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. Mustang," said Grand with an almost fatherly smile. "You two are clearly a good match for one another. Finding such a perfect match is rare, and worth treasuring. I hope these current troubles blow over quickly and leave you both unscathed."

"My sentiments exactly," said Roy, and the two men saluted one another with their coffee cups, Roy praying to a God he hardly believed in harder than he'd ever prayed before. _Please, please, let this storm pass us by._


	7. So Sue Me

**A/N:** So, this took a lot longer than anticipated. Then again, I didn't anticipate having to fight off hordes of fleas either. Did you know that a cat can get flea-bit so bad they can become anemic and die? Well, neither did I until I had to pay$1200 to get my cat a blood transfusion. She's still alive, and we finally managed to get rid of the fleas (we had to bathe the cats 3 times, tried 4 different medications, and bug-bombed), and then I spent the next month giving my cat 2 pills a day. Anybody who's ever given a cat a pill will tell you that one pill is headache enough. And did you know "cat scratch fever" is actually a thing? I thought it was a crappy holdover song from the hairband era, but no, it's actually a thing. It's a blood parasite passed to cats from fleas that they pass to humans via claws. It's not fun, but luckily not fatal, so that's something at least. So, anyway, this chapter was super long, so it had to be split in two (I'm posting the other half as Ch 8 in just a minute). The story should be easing further and further into craziness now (finally). Hope it was worth the wait!

 **Chapter 7**

 ** _So Sue Me_**

The bell above the diner's door jingled cheerfully, and Ed hustled from behind the counter to greet the new customer only to stop short in surprise. "Marcoh, hey!" he greeted, grinning. Roy was fairly surprised as well. Tim Marcoh was the homeless man that lived in the alley across the street from the diner. According Ed, the guy hated going into the diner, and he turned Ed down every time he invited him in. That was why Ed always brought food and coffee to him rather than having him come to get it himself. "What's up? Is everything all right?"

"I'm sorry Ed, I don't mean to intrude," said the man. He ran a hand through greasy gray-streaked black hair, his sad eyes and age-lined face showing a considerable amount of worry. His eyes darted back and forth, skittering along the patrons, some of which were disgusted and others with eyes alight with pity. Only Ed and Al seemed to be showing simple friendly curiosity and concern. "I just had to come warn you. There are some suspicious characters outside, and they all seem to be watching the diner. I may be being paranoid, but I'm fairly certain it's _you_ they're watching."

Ed froze, his whole body stiffening as he paled. Roy all but jumped out of his chair and rushed to Ed's side. "What did they look like?" asked Roy even as he wrapped Ed in a protective embrace and pulled him close. Ed tucked his head under Roy's chin, his overly tense muscles quivering with the need for motion and his face showing the ongoing battle between fight and flight.

"Two of them were parked in what I assume is supposed to look like a maintenance van for Central City Electric," said Marcoh, jerking his chin toward the windows to his right. Al and Hohenheim, and even Grand, moved to peer out the window Marcoh had indicated. "I could tell it was fake the moment I saw it. I wonder if they're even _trying_ to hide . . ."

"No kidding," snorted Al, already returning to his seat. "The logo's not quite right and there are two guys sitting in the front seat just staring toward the diner. One of them has _binoculars_ for cripe's sake. Ed, they may as well install a big neon sign that says 'amateur stalkers' in big cursive letters."

"That's probably the Marshal Service," mumbled Ed. "What'd they do, find the two dumbest guys in the district to assign to this case?"

"The third man seemed a bit more concerning," said Marcoh, his frown deepening. "I believe I've seen him before. Also, something seemed somewhat . . . off-putting about him. I've lived on the street long enough to easily recognize the signs of a broken mind. That he is thoroughly unhinged is as clear as day."

"Booker," hissed Ed weakly before burrowing deeper into Roy's embrace.

"Al, call Roach and Murry," commanded Roy. "I'm going to take Ed into the back until he calms down a little. Dr. Marcoh, would you care for a cup of coffee while you're here."

"Perhaps another time," said Marcoh politely, offering Roy a nod of respect – Roy had marveled a bit at the man's genteel manners the first time they'd met and every subsequent meeting thereafter, and it made him curious about the kind of life the man had lived before becoming homeless. "Watch out for yourself Edward. I don't want to see you getting involved in any more trouble."

"Thanks, Doc," said Ed faintly, looking at the man with a wan smile. "I really appreciate the heads up."

"It's the least I can do," said Marcoh fondly. "I'll see you around."

Roy hustled Ed into the back of the diner, briefly explaining the situation to the cook, Fritz, as soon as they entered the man's domain. Roy often wondered if the man lived at the diner. Roy had only rarely seen a different cook working, and yet the man never seemed tired or anxious to leave. If anything, he seemed content to do exactly what he was doing. Fritz was another one whose past Roy couldn't help but be curious about. Ed probably knew everything about both mystery men, down to their shoe size, but whatever he knew, he wasn't sharing. He hardly shared his own secrets, so of course he'd never share someone else's.

"You going to be all right, Edward?" Fritz asked, and Ed nodded slightly. "All right then. Why don't you two go to the break room and relax a bit?"

"Thanks, Fritz, you're one in a million," said Ed with relief and gratitude. "My shift's almost over, so could you brief Paninya when she gets in?"

"No problem," said Fritz with a dismissive little wave.

Ed and Roy ducked into the tiny break room that doubled as a dry goods storage room. Most of the small space was taken up by metal shelving, but there was one cleared corner in the back where a table had been shoved up against the wall, three chairs surrounding it. A cork board was nailed to the wall above the table alongside the HIPAA and OSHA guidelines and other laws and employee rules for hygiene and attendance. Tacked to the cork board were things like the employee schedule and the rotation for side work for each shift – like rolling silverware bundles, filling salt and pepper shakers, and so on – as well as flyers for local events and advertisements for things like babysitting services and cheap car repair. Ed and Paninya got a kick out of posting the occasional prank flyer on the board when they had nothing better to do.

Roy sat in one of the chairs and pulled Ed down into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde. "How are you holding up, love?" he asked, brushing back Ed's bangs with gentle fingers.

"I just . . . I just don't get it," said Ed, sounding exhausted and frustrated and just a little bit fragile. "I've won fights against whole gangs of guys twice my size. I've never once backed down from an opponent. I've never shied away from a fight. I mean, sometimes I may have to do the whole strategic retreat thing, but always it's just so I can regroup and come back swinging with a better plan – or a bigger fucking stick. But not . . . n-not this guy. Why?! Why can't I fight him?! Just one word about him, and I'm cowering in a corner like a scared little girl! What the actual fuck? Why is it when it comes to this fucker I turn into such a damn . . . _coward_? This isn't _me_ . . . and I _hate_ it, so much. _I hate it_ , and I can't seem to fucking fix it . . ."

"It's because this miserable bastard stripped your power from you," Roy told him bluntly. "You're used to always being strong – so much stronger than anybody you go up against. Even if the guy you're facing is physically more powerful, you still have a will that can beat out anybody, hands down. But, just this once, you were completely at somebody else's mercy. You couldn't fight back. You were humiliated, violated, and made to feel weak and powerless. And then you had to sneak away and never got a chance to take your power back from him."

"Y-yeah . . . yeah, that makes sense," said Ed, leaning down and burying his face in the crook of Roy's neck.

"But, you know what?" began Roy, one hand rubbing slow circles into Ed's tense back. "You're already starting to take your power back now." Ed looked up at him with blatant disbelief. "It's true. You're fighting back. You're not just sitting around waiting for him to come kidnap you. You're actively figuring out how to take the fight to him. And I _know_ you can beat him. You're the smartest, and sneakiest, person I know. I can't think of anyone with a better chance of winning. I mean, you took down an untouchable billion dollar conglomerate in a couple of weeks." Ed blushed adorably, and Roy couldn't help but chuckle a bit, tweaking the end of Ed's nose just to watch him wrinkle it – really, he'd never get tired of that. "Plus you've got a whole bevy of nerdy wannabe ninja vigilantes at your disposal. We've all got your back, and, one way or another, this guy is as good as gone. So, enough worrying for now, gorgeous. You're gonna give yourself wrinkles."

"Meh, you'd still think I'm sexy," said Ed, sticking his tongue out, and Roy could only laugh and hug him tighter.

"Of course," said Roy loftily. "Even if your face gets wrinkly, your ass is still hot as hell."

"Thanks Roy," said Ed, resting his forehead on Roy's. "Not for the ass comment, you perv . . . but, um, you know . . . for everything else."

"Any time, love," said Roy, gladly stealing a kiss. "Let's talk about something else for a while. All right?" Ed nodded his agreement and snuggled into Roy's chest again. "What are you planning on doing for the festival – or is the talent show it for you?"

"Nah, me and a couple of the other science teachers are selling sweets," said Ed, actually sounding a bit excited about it. "Our booth is a joint effort for the North American Council on Adoptable Children and the My Stuff Bags Foundation. We're giving half of the profit to the Council and the other half we're giving to the Foundation. Plus there'll be donation boxes for people to give blankets and toys and whatever else."

"I've never heard of the My Stuff Bags Foundation," said Roy, pushing the distraction for all it was worth.

"It's really cool," said Ed, his enthusiasm igniting like the fuse on a firecracker. "They put together these duffle bags with stuff like blankets and teddy bears and coloring books and other stuff kids like and give them to children who have lost their families. Because when you're a kid freshly foisted into the system, you have nothing and no one. You're scared and need something to cheer you up, something to call your own. That's what they're about. Giving lonely kids without hope a little comfort."

"I can totally get behind that, and I know the rest of my team would too," said Roy, and he meant it. Roy was an orphan himself, and, like Ed, only pure luck had saved him from making the rounds of foster families. He'd been in foster care for months before his Aunt Chris had taken him in. "And I'll talk to Chris's people and let them know there'll be a booth where they can buy your pie. They'll be on you like locusts. They usually all go to the festival every year as a group – sort of like a field trip – and Chris gives them a little extra money to spend in the booths since it's for charity. She'll deny she does that if you ask her, though."

"Yeah, Chris is one of a kind," said Ed, chuckling. "I'll bring the sign up for the booth down to your lab on Monday. If you guys really want to help, I would definitely be grateful. Havoc wanted to sign up too, but he's gotta do a thing with the football team for the Volunteers of America booth. Hohenheim is doing the St. Jude booth, but he's going to help me with picking up ingredients since he can drive Al's van – plus Teacher is going to let him borrow her refrigerated van for the cold ingredients like eggs and milk. Oh, and you remember Denny and his wife Maria who own that steak place downtown that we like so much? They're shutting down for a couple days so we can use their kitchen! How awesome is that? Hughes and Riza already signed up for the Court Appointed Special Advocate booth, but they're gonna stop by the booth to pick up pastries to feed the volunteers at their booth. Sheska is helping out with the Special Needs Alliance thing – they're doing a hayride this year through the historical district, so Sheska's been researching fun historical facts about the city and stuff. I also promised to help with some of the building for the Innovations for Poverty Action booth where Paninya will be working, and I'll be doing deliveries of leftovers to the local shelters after the festival is over since some of those leftovers will be from my booth. Specifically I'm taking all the leftover pastries and shit over to the Ninth Street shelter, and I told Marcoh to spread the word to the street kids so they know to go there for free sweets."

"And I bet you plan on making extras just to make sure you have enough to take over there," said Roy, not even needing to ask. Ed's bright blush was all the confirmation he needed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a softie," said Ed, rolling his eyes. "I was also thinking about making a couple huge pots of stew to take over there with the sweets so they have something besides sugar to eat."

"I could make a few loaves of bread to take with you too – or maybe rolls instead. They'd be easier to distribute and easier for the kids to carry," offered Roy, and the grin Ed gave him made his heart feel light as a feather.

"I'd tell you you're awesome, but your ego's had enough inflating for one day," said Ed, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I'll make sure to tell you tomorrow morning though." Roy could only laugh at that and turn his head to kiss Ed more fully.

Al walked in then and told them, "Roach and Murry are here, and as soon as they showed up Booker scurried off like the cockroach he is. But our detective buddies are about to go outside and have a little chat with our friends the marshals and they thought you might like to put your two cents in."

"Fuck yeah!" replied Ed, jumping to his feet and hurrying out after his brother.

As they emerged into the main restaurant, Roach and Murry were already "guiding" four figures into the diner. Two of them were fairly combative, protesting the whole way. One of them looked more or less resigned about the whole thing. The last guy looked like he was entirely certain he wasn't supposed to there and would very much like to be elsewhere. Ed leveled a look on them so cold it could have brought about a new Ice Age. For that matter, Hohenheim and Grand – both tall, broad-shouldered men – were doing their best to look properly terrifying, their imposing expressions hard with disapproval.

"How's tricks, Ed?" greeted Roach, and Ed threw a more or less friendly wave at him, a little of the ice melting for the detective. "Looks like we caught us a whole gaggle of illegally investigating marshals."

"Have you told them the good part yet?" asked Ed, quirking his eyebrow at the detectives.

"Oh, you mean the part about how they were so busy looking at you that they totally didn't notice that the guy they were _supposed to be_ looking for was five feet away?" asked Murry, sarcasm dripping caustically from every word. "Nah, I thought I'd save that for after coffee."

"Shit," hissed one of the more combative marshals. The other protestor just settled a blank mask on his face, not giving away an inch.

"Look, Stoic McFrownyman, your face won't break if you crack a smile and play nice," said Ed breezily, jabbing the blank-faced marshal in the chest with an automail finger. The man was tall, well-muscled, and broad-shouldered with deeply tanned skin and ash blonde hair. He wore a deep frown on his face and his brows above his reddish brown eyes were furrowed in a very stern law enforcement sort of way. "Now take a load off, and if you can quit glaring for ten whole seconds, I might be tempted to bring you guys coffee."

"You are hindering an ongoing investigation," countered McFrownyman.

"What I am is one wrong word from suing your ass for dereliction of duty and willful endangerment. Now, _sit_ ," snarled Edward, his eyes flashing with rising ire. Unsurprisingly, the marshals sat.

"Oi, don't _we_ at least get coffee?" demanded Roach, gesturing to him and his partner.

"What's the magic wo~ord?" sing-songed Ed. Roach sighed and rolled his eyes, Murry smirking.

"Please?" asked Roach grudgingly.

"Bzz! Wrong answer," said Ed, but then he laughed at the detectives' incredulous glares. "But since I know how much it pains you to be polite, I'll cut you a break. And since I'm feeling downright charitable toward you two for bringing my Christmas gifts a little early this year, I'll even throw in a slice of pie. Apple, Cherry, Lemon, Pecan, or Chocolate?"

"I'll have to go with lemon," said Roach with a strangely heavy sigh. "You've spoiled me for real pies, man. Now, no one else's pie is good enough anymore. Ice box pies are fine, but the baked pies just aren't worth nothin' in comparison. You've sucked all the joy out of my life."

Ed laughed, bright and warm and with ample gusto, even as his cheeks grew distinctly pink. "Well, I'm teaching some culinary arts students the secret of my pie crusts tomorrow, so if you drop by the house tomorrow night I should still have leftovers."

"I have a feeling there might be a crime in need of investigating somewhere in the vicinity of your address tomorrow night," declared Murry, completely straight-faced – and completely shameless.

"I have the same feeling," agreed Roach, just as serious as his partner – and just as unrepentant. "It would be wrong of us not to investigate. And, since we'll be in the same area . . ." Ed just laughed again and patted both men on the back.

"If it'll make you feel any better I can call in a 1089 for one of the frat houses down the road or something." offered Ed, snickering.

"Do you even know what that is?" asked one of the marshals, horrified. This one had dark brown hair like something found on 80's boy bands and a weird goatee that was trimmed close and only covered the very tip of his chin and a small patch in the dip under his bottom lip.

"Duh, Soul Patch, it's a bomb threat," answered Ed with a shrug. "I'm a supposedly renowned scientist working in the science department of a prestigious university and a temporary lackey for big pharma. Of course I know what a 1089 is! Is this guy even for real?" the last part he asked of Roach who just rolled his eyes. "Is a bomb threat too much? But they won't send out detectives for something stupid like a 1016."

"Nah, domestic disturbances go to uniforms," said Roach, clearly putting some thought into it too.

"I'm going to pretend not to hear this conversation," said Murry with a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "The things I do for good pie."

"Not just good pie, my friend, fucking _orgasmic pie_ ," corrected Roach. Murry looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn't help but concede the point.

"You're supposed to be the senior officer. You shouldn't be encouraging this," hissed McFrownyman fastidiously.

"See, if you guys weren't being a bunch of douche nozzles, you'd have already had my pie and would know what they were talking about," sniffed Ed haughtily. "And who put the starch in your underoos Butch? Did they only serve you the stale donuts this morning or what? If anybody should be PMSing around here it's me. Now shut your yap for a minute while I get the boys who actually work for a living some coffee."

"Are you sure it's such a good idea to antagonize the marshals?" asked Al in an undertone as Ed was walking away.

"They've already antagonized me with their idiocy and their rude-ass tactics. It's time for the shoe to be on the other fucking foot little brother," said Ed with a vicious grin.

"For once, I'm in agreement with Edward," said Hohenheim, the coldest glare Roy had ever seen on him aimed right at the marshals. "If you wish to be treated with respect you must first show yourself to be worthy of respect. Their tactics have cost your brother his peace of mind and could have cost him his life. They clearly don't respect him and so are undeserving of his respect, or ours. It's as simple as that."

"I guess you have a point," said Al with a heavy sigh. "I'll follow you're lead on this brother. Just try not to get us arrested."

Ed filled three coffee mugs and dished up two pieces of lemon pie then led the procession back to the waiting law enforcement officers, setting two of the cups and the pie in front of Roach and Murry and keeping the last cup for himself. "Now, to start with, I'd like to know your names and see your credentials," said Ed, turning his chair around before sitting so he could rest his arms on the backrest.

"This is Deputy Marshal Miles, Deputy Marshal Karley, Neil our Technical Analyst, and I'm Deputy Marshal Henschel," introduced the big man with the reddish brown hair and broad face. He seemed to be the only one at least trying to look somewhat friendly. Soul Patch turned out to be Karley, and McFrownyman was Miles. Luckily for everyone's temperaments, Ed hadn't gotten around to naming the other two. They all pulled out their badges and marshal ID's and held them out for Ed to examine before pocketing them again.

"All right, I'm going to start off this little conversation with a lecture of sorts. I'm a professor. Lecturing idiots so they can get smarter is what I do," said Ed, leaning forward and leveling his most piercing glare on them. "According to the statutes set down by the state and by the Department of Justice – your bosses – a victim's core rights include: _The right to be treated with fairness, dignity, sensitivity, and respect; The right to attend and be present at criminal justice proceedings; The right to be heard in the criminal justice process, including the right to confer with the prosecutor and submit a victim impact statement at sentencing, parole, and other similar proceedings; The right to be informed of proceedings and events in the criminal justice process, including the release or escape of the offender, legal rights and remedies, and available benefits and services, and access to records, referrals, and other information; The right to protection from intimidation and harassment; The right to restitution from the offender; The right to privacy; The right to apply for crime victim compensation; The right to the expeditious return of personal property seized as evidence whenever possible; The right to a speedy trial and other proceedings free from unreasonable delay; The right to enforcement of these rights and access to other available remedies._

"Now, think real fucking hard. How many of my rights, as the victim, have you jokers violated? Hm? I can answer if you like. I'm _real_ good at math. No less than _four_. To make matters worse I fall under a special category of victim due to the nature of the crime and the fact that, according to law, I'm considered disabled – only got two natural limbs, you know. So, what recourse should I take at this point? I could talk to your supervisor, but I get the feeling that's who set you on this case in the first place. You wouldn't be doing this without his or her approval. That means I would have to go over their head. What do you think will happen when – not _if_ , but _when_ – I report this to the DOJ?" Ed gave them the smile of a shark scenting blood in the water and prepping for dinner. "I'm about to be a very rich man, and I do believe you boys are about to end up on the bread line."

"Now that I think on it, I still have a few friends over at the DOJ. Perhaps it's time we touch base and catch up," said Hohenheim innocently with a smile made to cut glass. In moments like this, the resemblance between him and Ed was almost creepy – or _definitely_ creepy, depending on what side of that smile you were standing on. "I have come to find that people don't obey laws out of a sense of altruism. They do it out of self-interest, because there are consequences for disobedience that they don't want to face. I get the feeling you boys, and most likely your boss, have escaped consequences long enough and often enough that you no longer feel any great fear of what may befall you if you step out of line. It's time to remember that fear."

"I would be more than happy to call the university's legal team to represent Edward. We have some of the best lawyers in the country. Since Edward is not only one of our brightest students but also a member of our esteemed faculty, he is well within his rights to make use of their services," said Grand, a vindictive gleam in his eye.

"I still have all of the listening devices that they planted in our house without permission – disabled of course. I can also provide phone records and electronic records proving that no phone call or email ever came my way to notify me that the man who kidnapped me five years ago had recently escaped prison and was after me. I can even show a record of all mail sent to me through USPS to prove that I didn't even get so much as a postcard to warn me that I was in danger. And now I have multiple witnesses who can attest that I was being kept under surveillance." Edward had them by the balls, and they all knew it, the four of them sinking down into their seats like recalcitrant children. "What I'd like to know is _why_? Why am I being watched and yet kept out of the loop? It's not even a sound strategy, and it does nothing but endanger me and the people I care about. So _why_?"

"Yeah," drawled Neil ruefully. "Our boss lady's a little, um . . ."

"She's a hard ass," Henschel finished for him.

"And that's putting it nicely," said Neil dryly. "She has no sympathy for people she perceives as being 'weak', and, well . . . she says you're a coward."

"She thinks your tactics are underhanded and that you play on the sympathies of others to convince them to fight for you instead of fighting for yourself," elaborated Miles, nothing in his face or voice giving away whether he agreed with that opinion or not.

"Say what?" growled Ed, danger crackling in his heated golden gaze. "So, just because I use my brain to fight instead of just bullying in and getting myself killed, I'm a coward? And because she thinks I'm a coward _I deserve to be kidnapped, beaten, and raped by a delusional psychotic bastard_?! What the fuck is wrong with her?! _I'll show her a fucking coward_!" Al, Hohenheim, and Roy all jumped in as one to keep Ed in his chair, Murray, Roach, and Grand jumping in a second later. But even with six people, they were having a hard time. Ed was not somebody to mess with when he was calm and in control. When he was enraged? Everybody in range had reason to duck for cover.

It took a lot of convincing and cajoling, but they finally got Ed to calm down enough that he was at least willing to remain seated for the moment. The marshals were in a state of absolute shock. They could only stare at Ed with a sort of awe – or perhaps _dread_ would be the more accurate term. Roy could understand their befuddlement. Looking at Ed, it was impossible to imagine he would be strong enough to require six full grown men to subdue him. And, really, if they had been anybody but friends and family they wouldn't have been able to. The only thing that made it possible was that, even in his worst rage, Edward would never intentionally hurt someone he cared about. If they had been strangers, however, they'd all be laid out on the floor and Ed would be halfway to the marshals' office.

"And now we can add defamation of character to the list of grievances," rumbled Hohenheim angrily.

"Rest assured, you'll be hearing from our lawyers," added Grand ominously.

"I suggest you scurry on home and tell that bitch her assistance ain't welcome," said Edward, his tone dripping with vitriol. "My security is being handled. We've set up our own surveillance in and around our home. We'll catch this creep without your so-called help, and when we do we'll hand the collar over to these detectives here who are far more deserving of the credit. If she's got anything to say about, she knows how to reach me . . . despite the evidence that suggests otherwise."

"Look, kid, for what it's worth, the way the boss lady is handling this isn't cool. And I know you've been through the wars. But you shouldn't try to handle this on your own," said Henschel, his eyes pleading with Ed to be reasonable. "I'll talk to the boss lady myself. I can't guarantee results, but . . . it's a helluva lot better than burning bridges at this stage of the game, ya know?"

"Oh, and also, I've heard about your skills," said Neil, still somewhat sheepish, and, for some reason, a bit hopeful. "I've even seen some of the tech you came up with recently. I mean, shit! A listening device and camera powered by the PCCM in your automail? That's seriously wicked, man! Investigation aside, I gotta give you props for what you did with Ouroboros. It was insane and stupid dangerous, but it took balls the size of Wisconsin to pull that shit off. So, at least from me, good on ya. Nerd solidarity and all that jazz. Keep fighting the good fight."

Ed actually laughed at that, Al and Roy shaking their heads and chuckling along with him. "If you leave me your card I can let you know when the patents for the new spy gear come up for grabs. There's been talk about showing it all off at this tech convention in January and taking bids after that."

"Dude, are serious? Hell yeah!" enthused Neil, reaching into his back pocket and handing a business card over. Edward pulled out his own wallet and did the same. The cards were a requirement of the University and had Central U's logo in the top right-hand corner. All three of his titles – professor, researcher, and tutor – were included in italics under his name. "You tutor too, huh? That wasn't in the info I dug up. Cool. Well, I guess we'll get out of your hair for now. And, aside from the lawsuit shit, it was good meeting you."

"Yeah, nerd solidarity," laughed Ed, and he and Neil fist-bumped.

"I'll contact you after I've talked to boss lady," promised Henschel. The other two marshals remained silent, glaring at Ed as they filed out of the diner and returned to their van.

"Well, that's one headache gone," said Ed with a tired sigh. "And Grand, thanks for jumping in for me. Did you mean it about the University's legal team?"

"Of course, Edward," said Grand firmly. "I'll contact them first thing Monday morning and make them aware of the situation so they can begin building the case."

"I really appreciate it," said Ed sincerely, and Grand actually blushed a little under the bright beam of Ed's gratitude. "Really, I could have sued back when the case first happened because nobody bothered to really look for me at all. It was another case where me and Al had to make the case ourselves because nobody helped us. If it weren't for us, that bastard would have never been found or convicted. At the time, though, I just wanted it to be over, so I let it go. But I ain't rolling over this time. This is bullshit and I won't stand for it. It's like Hohenheim said, they have no fear of consequences anymore, so it's time we remind them how to fear."

"I'm more than happy to help you with that," said Grand, his smile almost villainous. "They won't know what hit them."

Sunday was a lot more fun than Ed had expected it to be. Since the girls were all culinary arts students, they had required only a minimum of explanations. So, basically it was the easiest – and tastiest – tutoring gig he'd ever done. Roy and Breda were there to eat the experiments, and in between treats they enjoyed Turkish coffee courtesy of the youngest girl. She had brought her rather fancy Turkish coffee pot, figuring that they would need something to cleanse their palates from all the overly sweet pie and pastry ingredients. She had figured right.

By the time they had finished, none of them wanted to so much as look at a cube of sugar ever again. They had been a little nauseous while at the same time bouncing off the walls from the overload of sugar, so afterwards they all headed to a nearby seafood joint for all the salty fried food they could handle. Overall, it was a good time for all of them. Ed even forgave the girls for flirting with Roy at the beginning – especially since Roy had earned Brownie points by immediately pointing out that he was taken.

Monday Ed was able to dedicate mostly to lab time, for which he was thankful. He was really starting to feel the pressure to finish rebuilding his machine. Havoc showed up after his classes so that Ed could go ahead and get him his security clearance so he could start helping Ed out. When he arrived, Ed met him at the security desk and introduced him to the day guard. He'd already explained the situation, so the paperwork was already there waiting for him.

"So this is really all it takes to get cleared to enter the labs?" asked Havoc as if that fact was worrisome.

"No, this gets you past the security desk, but only on a limited basis. You won't be able to be here if I'm not. You'll be turned aside at the desk or made to wait until I get back. If you want clearance to be here after hours or without me, you'd have to take a competency test and a few personality assessments. They also run a background check on you, even for this minimal clearance," Ed explained to him, checking over each document as Havoc completed it. "Getting access to _my_ lab in particular means submitting to Amestris' security measures. The shit I'm working on is hush-hush. They've got reason to be paranoid. Corporate espionage is seriously a thing, especially when it comes to medical advancements. Pharma is a multi-billion-dollar industry dude. For now, you'll be able to enter my lab because I'm not doing much except fixing my busted machinery. But sometime in the next few days we'll have to take a trip over to Amestris to get you a key to my lab and the alarm code. They'll put you to the test for real – think CIA Guantanamo Bay style and you'll get an impression of what to expect."

"Damn dude," said Havoc, startled and concerned for a whole new reason.

"But, you'll never find a part-time job that pays better than this gig," Ed comforted him. "Old man Grumman really treats his employees right, ya know."

"You think you'll keep working for him after you graduate?" asked Havoc, getting back to his paperwork.

"I'm thinking about it," said Ed noncommittally. And he really was thinking about it seriously. Grumman had been good to him and Al both, and he was all but family at this point. It wouldn't be so bad working for the old man full time. However, Ed also loved teaching. It drove him nuts on a good day, and it was a lot of hard work, but it was also very rewarding. His students loved him, and he felt like he made a difference in the lives of so many of them. He felt like teaching was helping to build a better future by building better minds to run it, but would it really be enough to keep him engaged long term? "I was actually thinking about finally studying physics. I've always wanted to, but I never could because of all that bullshit with Ouroboros . . . I don't know. I've got a while yet to think about it, and I've got a lot more paths open to me now. And I'm not really used to planning too far ahead, ya know? I'm used to being prepared to cut-and-run at the drop of a dime. The entire time we've been here, we've had one foot out the door. Now we're in a position where we can settle and think of the future and the possibilities are fucking endless . . . what the hell do you even do with that?"

"And you've got somebody attached to your hip now who isn't Al and is so totally into you. That's gotta take some getting used to, I'm sure," put in Havoc, and Ed could feel the epic blush heating his cheeks and even his ears. "You spent so much of your life living for Al, and now you've got the freedom to live for yourself. It's like a mom when her kids go off to college. She's gotta learn how to be somebody besides somebody's mother. For you, who has been Al's go-to parent since early childhood, you've got to learn how to be somebody besides Al's brother. You can finally be selfish and do things just because you want to do them. You'll have to teach yourself how to want things for you and you alone. But I think Roy will be more than happy to help you out with that. I mean, seriously, I've known the man forever, but I've never seen him fall so deep into somebody like he has with you. It's awesome and terrifying and we're all super happy and worried for the both of you. And I can tell you're just as deep into him. It's the kind of love story we all wish we could get stuck in, but it's super rare and worth holding onto."

"I'll be honest, I never thought I'd ever . . . I mean, I never imagined I would ever . . . _give in_ ," admitted Ed, feeling a little shiver pass through him as if a cold breeze had found its way into the break room. "I always thought I'd only get to live vicariously through Al. I never thought I'd ever find someone for me. I figured I'd never get past my fear and paranoia. I couldn't let anyone get close. I didn't dare. But now . . . ? I'm living with a guy I've barely been dating a couple months. It's like, right from the start, we just . . . clicked. We just fit together like that's the way it was always supposed to be, and somehow . . . I'm totally fine with that. And, you know, that may be the weirdest part about this whole thing – that I'm totally fine with it."

"Meh, you'll adjust and it won't be weird forever," said Havoc reassuringly, giving Ed a grin. "And it's all good for me 'cause now that Roy's off the roster, it leaves an open field for the rest of us." Ed burst out laughing at that, laughing even harder when Havoc waggled his eyebrows, and Havoc laughed right along with him.

They finished up Havoc's paperwork then turned it in to the security guard who then took Havoc's picture and printed out his security badge. With the formalities out of the way, Ed led Havoc up to his inner sanctum, his home away from home. The lab was a mess of machine parts and scattered notes and schematics for the machine. His toolbox sat open next to the enormous machine that took up most of one wall, many of the tools still sitting on the floor. Since Ed was still trying to get his machine up and running and without his machine he couldn't finish his research, most of the rest of the lab equipment was gathering dust. Looking around his lab now still brought to mind the image of what it had looked like when it had first been trashed by Ouroboros' goons. Every time he walked in, his gut knotted in a ball of frustration and remembered rage.

Letting out his frustration as a long sigh, Ed guided Havoc through the mess to the machine. "This is my baby. I'm not going to bore you with the details of what she's supposed to do. You won't understand half of it, and you'd be asleep midway through anyway. So, look, do you know your way around tools and shit? Like if I ask you to hand me shit from the toolbox, you're not gonna look at me like I'm nuts right?"

"Yeah, of course, that much I know for sure," said Havoc, looking around in earnest as he spoke. "The sciency stuff though? You'd have to explain it first, but I'll remember after that."

"Okay, well, we won't need to worry about the sciency stuff for a little while yet," Ed assured him, and Havoc looked sincerely relieved. Ed couldn't help but chuckle at him. "Don't worry, even when we get to that part, most of what you'll be doing is shit like writing down what I tell you and making sure shit's doing what it's supposed to be doing. You might also be doing a bit of cleaning – dusting equipment and shit – but I'll show you how to do all that. Some of this stuff, like the microscope, won't work right if it gets dirty. I've also got some plants that need to be taken care of until I use them, but you won't have to worry about that until the experiments start back up. The white boards are sacred so only erase them if I tell you to, and wash 'em down good every now and then when they're not covered in my crappy handwriting. So, yeah, for now you'll just be handing me parts and tools while I'm working on the machine. It'll save me having to crawl out every time I need something. But, just something to remember, nobody – and I mean _nobody_ – is allowed in here if I'm not in here. If we're running experiments, the door stays closed and locked and we're reachable only by landline. No cell phones are allowed on this floor. If we're not in the lab, it has to be locked and the alarm set, even if we're just stepping out for coffee. I have an alarm clock on my desk for when I need to remember to be somewhere at a specific time 'cause I tend to lose track of time when I'm working. We can set it for when you need to leave for football practice so you don't end up late. So far does it sound like shit you can handle?"

"Yeah, Boss, easy enough," answered Havoc with a shrug.

"Cool," said Ed, giving his friend a broad grin. "I brought leftovers from home so we can celebrate with a proper lunch today. So let's pop a squat and dig into the grub."

They sat at Ed's desk and munched the homemade food happily, and after they were done and had cleaned up after themselves, they got right to work. It really did make it much easier having someone to hand him what he needed, because working on the machine meant literally crawling around inside of it. There were hatches at the top and bottom for him to climb in or out of, and when he needed something now he only had to ask and stick his hand out of one of the hatches. Before leaving for practice, Havoc made sure Ed had everything he needed close to hand, laying it all out right beside the hatch closest to the floor so all Ed had to do was poke his head out to find what he was looking for. As he worked, Ed could only feel glad that he had hired Havoc to help him. Roy was going to be insufferably smug since it was his idea in the first place.

"Hey Ed," called that familiar velvet voice, and Ed felt a smile tug at his lips. _Speak of the devil._ "We ordered pizza downstairs. Wanna join us?"

Ed poked his head out of the topmost hatch. "Do penguins want parkas? Hell yeah I want grub! Just let me set my big girl to run for a bit so the oil can pass through the repaired mechanisms." Roy chuckled as Ed climbed out of his machine and hurried over to his desk. He dug out some moist towelettes to clean the grease from his fingers then followed Roy down, locking his lab behind him and setting the alarm.

He was greeted by Roy's crew when he entered the lab, basking in the warm friendliness they offered him so easily. He had never been part of such a close-knit group of friends before, and he had to admit, it was a nice feeling. He had only ever really had himself, his brother, his Teacher, and Sig to rely on after his mother passed. Suddenly finding himself with a whole group of reliable people to lean on was both strange and wonderful at the same time. He doubted the novelty of it would wear off anytime soon.

"So, Ed, I hardly ever see you studying for finals. Is it safe to assume that you are already confident that you'll pass?" asked Falman, and Ed let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"I've had that shit in the bag since midterms. I could've tested out anytime," answered Ed with a dismissive little wave of his hand. "The only reason I'm even sitting through this boring crap is because I'm stalling to give me more time to finish my thesis. Once that's done, I can test out of whatever's left and call it all a done deal."

"Damn, must be nice to be a genius," said Fuery with a heavy sigh. "I'm terrified of my finals. I've been slacking way too much and I know it's going to show in my grades. I'm not looking forward to that particular conversation with my parents."

"Dude, you'll be fine," Ed told him soothingly. "I've seen your notes and I've seen your work. I know you've got this thing handled. And if you really feel like you need a little extra help, just let me know. I'd be more than happy to lend a hand – though, really, you'd almost be better off asking Hohenheim. The man may be useless as a human being, but he knows his physics." It almost killed him to praise the man, but it was what it was. Hohenheim, though worthless as a father and a general waste of skin, was one of the top minds in his field, whether Ed liked it or not.

Ed yawned hugely, his jaw cracking as he did. It had been a long day that had started way too damn early and was all but drowned in crappy lab coffee. He was just glad that Monday was one of his easiest days in terms of teaching and taking classes. He didn't even have a shift at the diner since he had early class Tuesday morning. Tuesday, on the hand was a whole other ball of wax. It wasn't as bad as his Thursdays, but it was bad enough since he had to attend an early class then then teach a class right after it and work graveyard shift at the diner that night. It wasn't easy paying for Al to go to medical school, and some days Ed wondered how on Earth he hadn't burned out yet.

"Come on, Ed, let's call it a night. You've got a long day tomorrow and can use the sleep," suggested Roy gently. Ed looked up from his pizza and was met with Roy's irrefutable puppy eyes. Curse the man for knowing how to manipulate him so well.

"Fine," said Ed in his most inconvenienced tone. "I wouldn't mind a hot shower. I feel like there's more oil on me than in the machine." Ed stretched his arms over his head, trying to ease some of the tension in his shoulders and back. He expected a bit of relief, but what he got was a sudden pain lancing through shoulder port. He winced and dropped his arms, rubbing at the muscles surrounding the port. A hot shower was definitely overdue.

"You all right, love?" asked Roy, concern written all over his face. Ed supposed it had been too much to hope that the wince had gone unnoticed.

"I'm fine, just really fucking sore from spending half of my day crunched up inside of that machine," grumbled Ed, feeling a blush warming in his cheeks. "I think tomorrow I'll stick to basic diagnostics and ironing out equations, give myself a break from machine repair."

"And tonight, you can take a hot bath, and after that I'll work the knots out of your shoulders," offered Roy, coming up behind Ed and wrapping his arms around his waist. Ed leaned back into him happily, relishing the feeling of being cradled in the comfort and safety of his boyfriend's embrace.

The last couple days had been blissfully quiet, with no sightings of the stalker and no word yet from the marshals. Ed knew the peace wouldn't last, but he'd learned a long time ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It may just be the eye of the storm, but it was no less restful for the chaos that might greet them tomorrow. Besides, he'd seriously go bald if he kept stressing so much. As it was, he could feel the burden that all the worry and fear and thwarted anger were placing on his body, and he was, frankly, exhausted.

Since they'd already eaten, they didn't need to worry about making dinner when they got home, so instead they went straight upstairs to the master bathroom. Roy ran the bath for Ed while Ed found a couple clean towels and some PJ's for them to change into. He didn't even need to ask Roy to get in the bath with him. As soon as the older man saw the second towel, he figured out Ed's intentions and put up no protest. He rarely argued with anything that meant being naked with Ed – and Ed was always more than happy to get naked with Roy, so he wasn't complaining. The rest of the night went about as one would expect when nakedness was involved – though Ed did eventually get his promised backrub too, so, once again, he wasn't complaining.

The next morning, he was awakened by the sound of the doorbell ringing, and he tried to nudge Roy awake to go answer it. Unfortunately, Roy was sleeping the sleep of the dead, and nothing short of a necromancer or invading horde would wake him. Ed sighed to himself, crawling grudgingly out from under his mountain of blankets and into Roy's warm, fuzzy robe and his own slippers. He trudged down the stairs and opened the door, bleary-eyed and blocking a yawn with one hand.

There was no one there, but when glanced down, what he saw turned his blood to ice in his veins, his chest constricting in the opening refrains of a full-blown panic attack. Ed heard himself yell unintelligibly as he slammed the door shut then slid down to sit with his back against it. His mind stumbled back to five years ago when Booker would send him all those flowers, always with a note attached explaining what they meant in the language of flowers. The notes had said little else, they never needed to. The flowers themselves were the message. Ed needed to check the flowers on the porch for a note. He needed to know what the flowers meant. But he couldn't bring himself to open that door, or even stand up, as his breath came in harsher and harsher gasps. He vaguely heard the sound of Roy's voice raised in alarm as Ed's vision dimmed to black. His last thought before he lost the last of his awareness was, So much for peace.


	8. Small Wonders

**A/N:** As promised, this chapter is technically the second part of the chapter before it. There's a scene about midway through the chapter that will make the name of this chapter totally make sense. I just hope it's as funny on the page as it was in my head. Also, something to note about Ch 7 is that all of the charities mentioned are the real deal (I've done blankets for My Stuff Bags Foundation before, it's super cool). Also, the victims rights are also the real deal. Not all states have them, but most have at least some version of victims rights. Pretty much all of them will have the core rights I mentioned and failure to heed victims rights is an actionable offense. You can find out more about it on the DoJ's web site.

 **Chapter 8**

 ** _Small Wonders_**

Roy woke up with all of his internal alarm bells ringing, all but catapulting out of sleep into awareness. He could swear he had heard a terrified yell from a voice he'd have sworn would never emit such a sound. Roy shot out of bed, noting that his robe was missing – _taken by Ed_? – and practically flew down the stairs only to find Ed curled up in the foyer with his back against the front door. He was unconscious but panting and shivering nonetheless. Roy didn't see any obvious injury so he went with his first instinct and gathered his unconscious lover into his arms.

Roy checked Ed over for less obvious signs of injury – skull fracture, signs of stroke or heart disease – but his limited medical knowledge yielded nothing. Then Ed started coming to, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He looked up at Roy with huge, lost amber eyes, clearly confused and frightened. "Hey there beautiful," Roy greeted him softly, all but shaking with relief. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Ed continued to stare at him uncomprehendingly, as if he was speaking a foreign language, but then clarity slowly crept into his eyes as fear and anger took over his expression. "There's flowers . . . on the porch," croaked Ed, still weak but furious. "They're from . . . _him_." Ed let out a soft, growling sigh. "He used to send them to me every few days. There should be a note on them, and the cops will want to process them for evidence. Can you please bring them in, read the card, but keep them out of my sight? I can't handle even looking at them . . ." Ed closed his eyes and buried his face in Roy's chest as if trying to hide. "I had a panic attack, Roy. An honest-to-fucking-God full-blown panic attack. I haven't had one in years. That's why I passed out."

"I see," said Roy, his brow furrowed in concern. "Are you all right to walk or would you like me to carry you to the couch – and be honest, Ed?"

"I . . . I think I can walk, but I still feel a bit dizzy," replied Ed reluctantly. "I could use a little help."

Roy helped Ed to stand then lent him his shoulder to lean on as he walked slowly over to the couch. Once Ed was lying back in the cushions, Roy pulled the throw from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the younger man to keep him warm. With Ed settled comfortably, Roy went to fetch the flowers and carried them straight into the study, leaving them on the unused desk before heading upstairs to get his phone and call Detective Roach. The detective wasn't happy about waking up so early, but he promised to wake up Murry and head right over.

Roy made his next phone call as he was on his way down the stairs, dialing the university and asking to speak with the dean. After he was patched through to Grand, he told the dean that neither he nor Ed would be making it to their first class of the day, explaining the reason why. They would need to wait for the detectives, and Ed was also recovering from a panic attack and would need a little more time to pull himself together. The dean was, thankfully, very understanding and asked him only to call back with an update as soon as he could.

Downstairs, Roy returned to the study and plucked the note from the artfully arranged bouquet. Roy didn't recognize the flowers used in the bouquet, since they weren't the sort of flowers most commonly given as gifts, but all were in varying shades of red – from dark like cabernet to bright, vibrant scarlet. The card didn't say much beyond a creepy greeting before it went on the explain the meaning of each flower – amaryllis meant "pride", red camellias meant "passion and desire", begonias meant "beware", and monkshood meant "a deadly foe is near". It gave Roy an uneasy chill, reading that card. Knowing Ed would want to read the note later when he was calmer, Roy took a picture of it with his phone then set it down beside the bouquet and returned to Ed.

Ed had wrapped himself in the throw like the world's most adorable burrito, and had curled himself into a ball on one end of the couch. As soon as Roy sat down on the couch, he found himself with a sudden lap-ful of Burrito Ed, but he didn't mind at all. He was more than happy to wrap his arms around Ed and pull him in close. With everything that had been going on there hadn't been much he could do for Ed, but this? This he could do.

"How are you feeling, love?" asked Roy, slowly finger-combing Ed's golden hair. "I know panic attacks are pretty rough. I was going to start coffee, but it's pretty close to the time we normally get up anyway, so the timer should be starting a fresh pot any second now."

"I feel so lame, panicking like that," mumbled Ed unhappily. "I mean, they're just some shitty flowers. But . . . I can't help but remember. I remember when this thing first started five years ago. Flowers would show up at least once every couple of days. Always including amaryllis for pride. Always with no real message except the flowers themselves. I've read a couple books on the language of flowers since then, and I've had to take botany for my bio chem degree so I'm pretty good at identifying plants now. I almost don't need to read the note, but I know I should. Some flowers can have multiple meanings. But the monkshood . . . that one can only ever mean one thing. It's a warning that an enemy is near. So, now, I have no idea what to think."

"It does seem a bit weird for your stalker to be warning you about an enemy approaching," mused Roy, thinking over all the facts of the case that he knew so far. "Maybe he sees somebody close to you as an enemy or has noticed somebody paying more attention to you than he likes. It could even be someone he overheard criticizing your thesis. It would fit the MO of the typical stalker for him to place himself as your hero in whatever fantasy he's built in his mind. A hero can't be a hero if there's no evil to vanquish."

"Yeah, maybe," said Ed, chewing his lip absently. "But enough of this shit for now. Once the coffee is ready, I'll check the camera footage and see if we can catch him dropping off the bouquet. If it wasn't him, then we can maybe question whoever did his dirty work for him, see if we can get a lead."

"Now, that's my Edward, always three steps ahead," said Roy, nuzzling the side of his head. Ed growled a protest, but there was too much affection in his expression for it to be any sort of deterrent. It was even less of a deterrent when Ed freed himself from the blanket and wrapped himself around Roy, snuggling as close as he could get without actually crawling into Roy's PJ's with him. He was warm from being wrapped so tightly in the blankets and the affection made the embrace that much warmer. It was a pity they couldn't have more moments like this. "Well, as much as I love it when you channel your inner koala bear, you'll need to let go of me so I can check on the coffee."

"Don't wanna," said Ed petulantly, but he was quick enough to let go when Roy poked the ticklish spot on his side. "Dirty pool, Mustang. Dirty pool."

Roy just grinned as he headed into the kitchen. It only took another minute for the coffee to be done, and Roy poured enough for both of them, setting out two mugs in anticipation of the detectives' arrival. If anybody else came with the detectives, they could get their own coffee, but Roach and Murry were friends. They at least would get the proper guest treatment. "Don't forget to set out that froo-froo creamer shit for Murry," called Ed from the living room. They only kept that flavored creamer there for occasional visits from Gracia, but they'd discovered that Murry's sweet tooth was a fan of it too. "You know that bastard likes that shit for some reason. I don't know how he drinks that crap without his balls shriveling up."

"Liking flavored creamer doesn't make you less of a man," argued Roy futilely.

"The fuck it doesn't," snorted Ed.

"But you like it too, don't deny it. I've seen you making hot cocoa with it," countered Roy. It was non-dairy creamer, after all, so Ed considered it a safe dairy alternative.

"Yeah, but Roy, I'm pretty sure I'm gay. I'm pretty much contractually obligated to like a few unmanly things," said Ed in rebuttal.

"Ed, I'm pretty sure you're the manliest gay man in the whole of creation," laughed Roy. "You even made that frilly apron you wore on Sunday look manly. Hell, your hair is longer than half the girls' I know, and you can still manage to look like you could kick Chuck Norris' ass. I'd be jealous, but since you're pretty good about putting out, I'm willing to let it slide."

"So magnanimous of you," returned Ed dryly. Finally finished fixing his own coffee with sugar and half-and-half – no girly creamer for him, thanks, he'd never survive the teasing – Roy returned to the parlor and froze.

"Ed, honey, I think somebody lied to you somewhere along the way," said Roy, moving forward again with a sigh.

"The fuck?" asked Ed with a quizzical frown.

"Whoever told you that you're a mammal lied. I'm pretty sure you're actually some kind of invertebrate, because there's no way any creature with an actual spine could be comfortable in that position," explained Roy. Ed blinked at him slowly in confusion then all at once his whole face transformed, becoming bright and warm and alive with laughter, his eyes dancing and sparking little fires of answering joy in Roy's gut. Roy would sell his soul and burn the world for even five more minutes of that laughter, but it was not meant to be. A knock at the door with the distinct resonance of law enforcement interrupted their morning banter. "I should have known. As soon as the coffee's done, they show up. I swear it's some sort of sixth sense."

"Just go let Thing 1 and Thing 2 in. We can't have them shriveling up on the porch for lack of coffee," chuckled Ed with a shooing gesture. Roy sighed and set his mug down on the coffee table, kissing Ed on the side of the head before doing as he was told.

Murry and Roach did not look like happy bunnies, but they looked much less homicidal when Roy told them there was fresh coffee in the kitchen. "So, what's the deal with these flowers?" asked Murry after he'd had a sip or two of coffee to fortify him.

"So, five years ago, before I even knew I had a stalker, I started getting flowers for some fucked up reason," Ed began slowly, pulling the blanket tightly around himself again as he sipped gingerly at his own coffee. "They'd show up outside of the door of the apartment every few days. They always came with the same sort of note, but the note didn't matter. The flowers were the message, or rather, the meanings of the flowers. Have you ever heard of the language of flowers? It's called floriography, or the use of flower symbology to communicate messages and meaning. Flowers have been attributed with special meaning for thousands of years, but it was really in the 19th century that floriography became a popular means of communication, mostly in Victorian England and America. In a society that frowned on expressing one's feelings out loud, using plants and flowers to express your intent became a way to skirt society's taboos. My stalker planned every floral arrangement to send a message – undying love, passion, pride, etc. You'd be shocked how much you can convey with the right arrangement.

"At first, since I didn't know who the sender was, I thought it was kinda sweet, ya know? The flowers would be meant to say that I'm beautiful or proud or strong. I was lonely and overworked and far from home. It was nice to feel like someone cared. But then the messages started getting creepy, talking about desire and undying love and sometimes disappointment and anger. I started getting the impression that whoever was sending them was watching me a little too closely, wanted me a little too much. When I finally found out who they were coming from, I tried to reason with him. I tried to get him to stop. But he couldn't be reasoned with. You know the progression from there. He started scaring off people who tried to get close to me, responding violently to anybody who talked bad about me, following me everywhere, and always, _always_ there were those damn flowers. After he kidnapped me, when I first woke up chained to that damn bed, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes . . . was wall-to-wall flowers. Needless to say, seeing that bouquet on the porch this morning was more than a little unnerving."

"Well, we'll bag the flowers as evidence, and get them out of your way," promised Roach with a surprising show of compassion in his eyes. "It might be time to look into beefing up your security. I know you've got cameras and shit set up around the house, and you've got friends to watch your back when you leave. But when you're here, it's just you and Roy, and if you're both sleeping then who's watching over you?"

"I guess you have a point," admitted Ed grudgingly. "Speaking of the cameras, I'll go ahead and upload the camera footage from this morning and email it to you. I'll look at it too, but I'm not sure I can stay objective enough to make solid observations."

"We'll call you after we've watched the footage so we can compare notes," offered Murry, and Ed nodded.

"I'll talk to Aunt Chris, see if she can send somebody to keep an eye on the place at night," said Roy, and Ed gave him a small, tired smile. "We'll figure something out that won't be too intrusive. Do you think you'll feel up to teaching this morning? I'm sure Hohenheim would sub for you if you're still feeling a little shaky."

"Nah, I could use a good distraction," said Ed, shrugging.

Roach and Murry waited until Ed was in the shower then got to work spiriting away the flowers so Ed wouldn't have to see them again. The detectives promised to call if they found any fingerprints or other evidence, and they made Roy promise to call if anything else happened. Once the detectives were gone, Roy started making some simple scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. He wasn't much of a cook, but something this simple anybody could do. By the time Ed came down, breakfast was ready and Roy had already eaten so he was ready to take his turn in the shower while Ed ate. The pair already had morning routines down to a science – which made sense for a pair of scientists.

It was still a bit early for Ed's class, so they went to the lab first, but rather than going up to his own lab, Ed stuck around to chat for bit. So far, only Kain and Heymans were in the lab since everybody else was still in class and wouldn't be in until later. Roy had a class at the same time Ed would be teaching his class, but he had gotten used to coming in a little bit earlier since he was usually giving Ed a ride to his first class of the day.

"Hey, Professor Elric," said a girl from the doorway, sounding a bit nervous about interrupting the conversation, but friendly enough all the same. She was wearing the lab coat of one of the med students using the lab across the hall from Ed's. "Did you mean to leave your machine on last night when you left? I ask because I heard it still running when I left last night, and I left pretty late."

"Oh, yeah, I needed to let it run for a bit so I can do diagnostics today," Ed told her dismissively, and she smiled as if relieved.

"Oh good," she said cheerfully. "I know you've been working really hard on putting it back together, and I hated to think that something might go wrong when you're so close to finishing."

"Thanks Julie, I appreciate it, but I've got it all under control. I'll see you in class later," Ed told her, and with a wave she hurried off. "She's in my computational chemistry class. She's a bright girl, but she's a little OCD."

"With the number of students you have, I'm shocked you know so many of their names," said Kain, making a face, and Ed let loose a warm peel of laughter.

"Trust me, dude, if it wasn't for photographic memory I'd be sunk. You should see me the first week of a new semester. You'd think it was finals week with as much time as I spend studying my students' files," Ed told them honestly, and it would be so like Ed to put so much effort into learning about every one of his new students. Diligence was all but a religion for Ed. "I guess I better go shut the big beast down before class. She's run enough for now, and I don't want to have to mess with it while it's still hot from running all night. If I shut it down now, it can be cooling while I'm teaching."

"You know, if you want, I'd be more than happy to help you with some of the reassembly while we're still at the wait and watch stage of our research," offered Kain, and for a second it looked like Ed was going to accept but then he shook his head with a heavy sigh.

"No, I have to do it myself," said Ed, getting to his feet. "You wouldn't even fit through the hatch. I'm the only one who'll fit since I'm so small . . ." Ed froze, as did everybody else in the room. All movement and noise ceased as all mouths fell open in blatant shock. Had it finally happened? Had Edward Elric finally admitted the fact that he was short? Edward Elric who tended to put people in the hospital for even inferring such a thing in his hearing . . . or behind his back . . . or anywhere on the planet Earth.

"Did you just-"

"No-no," said Ed, one finger ticking side-to-side in time with his denial.

"But I heard-"

"Nuh-uh, no-no," repeated Ed, finger ticking back and forth again. "Never speak of this again." He turned to look at them with the burning intensity that they knew presaged an ass-beating. "Never. Again." They could only nod, after which Ed hurried out. The tableau held the three of them trapped until Ed was long gone at which point they burst out laughing. A moment later their hilarity was interrupted by the beeping of the intercom on the landline phone on Roy's desk. Ed's voice then came to them through the phone's external speaker, saying, "I can hear you assholes and have access to over a dozen highly volatile chemicals and several infectious diseases, some of which not even I can pronounce let alone cure. Don't test me." They were silenced just that easily.

"Let's get back to work," said Roy judiciously.

"Good plan," agreed Heymans. "I still have to go to class with him, so I'd rather not incur the Science God's wrath."

"Wise man," said Roy with a sage nod.

"Ew! That's a new definition of nasty!" exclaimed Ed, setting his coffee cup aside. "I know the faculty office coffee isn't much better than the lab coffee, but, dude, there's gotta be a limit. It tastes like fucking floor cleaner. I guess it doesn't help that it's cold."

"And here I thought even floor cleaner would taste better than the school's excuse for coffee," scoffed Roy, and Ed and Al both laughed. "I'm pretty sure you may even be doing the floor cleaner a grave injustice. You should apologize later."

Overall it was a fairly pleasant lunch. The boys hadn't been able to spend much time together since Al had moved in with their father, and Roy knew how much Ed had been missing him. Al had been Ed's whole world for most of their lives, so it was no surprise that the sudden absence of such a prevalent staple in Ed's life would be hard on him. Even with everything that was going on with the stalker, Ed still barely got any quality time to just hang out with his brother. This visit was just what Ed needed to perk him back up again, especially after the morning's flower fiasco. Roy was enjoying the visit too, for his own reasons. Sure he enjoyed Al's company, but the real reason Roy was pleased was because he got to see Ed acting like his old self again. It was nice to see him so animated.

They started getting their stuff together to leave, and Ed twisted the lid off of his travel mug so he could dump the coffee in the grass and get something fresher. Then he suddenly stopped and made a face. "There's something floating in it," he growled, thoroughly disgusted. "Ugh, I'm so glad I keep a toothbrush and toothpaste in my desk drawer. I don't even want to know what that . . ." His words abruptly cut off and he stumbled slightly. "I don't feel so good."

"Don't be such a girl, Ed. I'm sure it can't be anything that bad," teased Al dismissively. "I've seen you eat bugs before Brother."

"What? Seriously?" asked Roy, making a face.

"It's a long story," said Al, rolling his eyes.

"No, Al, I'm serious . . . I don't . . ." He slammed down the coffee cup on the table to free up his other hand then braced himself as if struggling not to fall over. The struggle proved to be in vain as he began to keel over backward. Roy and Al jumped toward him at the same time, but Al was closer.

"What's going on?" demanded Al rhetorically, the awkward angle making it difficult to keep his grip on his brother. He cast an accusing glare at the coffee cup. "He said it didn't taste right. That it tasted like floor cleaner. Hand me that cup." Roy handed it over then crouched beside him so he could look over Al's shoulder. Ed drank his coffee black. He hated even powdered creamer with the same fervent passion he reserved for milk, so there was no reason to have anything white and chunky in his coffee. "Somebody slipped a crushed up pill in his coffee," ground out Al furiously, voicing the thought they'd both had. "The only good luck here is that he didn't drink it all. That would also explain why it took so long to start working. We need to call an ambulance, and in the meantime we need to make him throw up as much of that crap as he can. What we need is a purgative."

"Sure I'll just whip something up then shall I?" asked Roy sarcastically, fighting hard against rising panic.

"I have an idea," said Al, brightening. "Take him into the bathroom and get him into a stall then call the paramedics. I'll be there in a second."

Carrying Ed into the bathroom was no easy task. The two automail limbs made Ed weigh considerably more than he strictly should given his size. But it wasn't Roy's first time carrying his young lover, so he was used to dealing with the extra heaviness and the off-kilter weight distribution. As soon as he'd placed Ed on the floor of one of the bathroom stalls and gotten him propped up against the wall, Roy pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. He was just giving the last detail to the dispatcher when Al ran into the bathroom and joined them in the stall. Roy hung up the phone and stared at Al as if he'd lost his mind.

He held in his hand a half-pint carton of whole milk which he was already opening. "We all know how much Ed hates milk," began Al as he positioned his brother's head in such a way that he would swallow the milk rather than drown in it as Al carefully poured it down his throat. "Ed doesn't just hate milk." Ed suddenly sputtered then groaned and lurched forward, all but launching himself toward the toilet bowl. Al caught and guided him so he didn't fall _into_ the toilet, setting the carton aside so he could support his brother's shoulders as he began throwing up. Roy held Ed's hair back, glad that he had a strong stomach. "Yeah, Ed doesn't just hate milk. It makes him violently ill."

"No kidding," remarked Roy dryly. By the time the ambulance arrived, Al had already forced more milk into Ed, making him throw up all over again until all that would come out was the milk. Roy grabbed a damp paper towel from beside the row of sinks and used it to wipe Ed's face. Even with all the vomiting, Ed was still completely out of it. He couldn't even keep his eyes open.

When the EMT's were trying examining him, Ed feebly tried to fend them off, but he was too far gone to defend himself. He seemed so distressed that it made Roy want to push the EMT's away, but he held himself back. Looking over at Al, he could tell that the young man was in a similar state of unhappiness. Neither of them liked seeing Ed so upset. "Ed hates hospitals and doctors," Al told him quietly. "Most of all, he hates needles. He hates doctors and hospitals because they tend to try to stick him with needles – plus he hates admitting weakness and doesn't like being forced to rest or do things he doesn't want to do. Letting others take care of him hurts his pride."

"We'll follow behind them in my car," offered Roy, putting a comforting hand on Al's shoulder. "Why don't you make some phone calls on the way? I know he has more classes today, and work at the diner tonight, so Paninya and the dean need to be informed." And it would also distract Al from his glaringly obvious worry. "The dean _especially_ needs to be informed. He needs to know that Booker was able to get somebody to do something like this, meaning that there's somebody roaming the campus willing and able to pull this off. You know he couldn't have done it himself, so somebody else had to have done it for him and that somebody is not somebody I want hanging around. We should also call the detectives and grab that coffee cup so we can give it to them. They'll need it for evidence and the hospital might need it so they can test the coffee to determine what Ed was dosed with."

"Yeah, you're right," said Al absently, following Roy out of the bathroom as if in a daze. They stopped at the table they'd been sitting at, and Roy grabbed his and Ed's stuff while Al put the lid back on Ed's travel mug. The pair rushed to Roy's car, Al was texting like crazy, putting the energy of his panic to good use. Roy was actually a little bit thankful that Al was in such a sorry state. Roy was able to keep it together only because somebody else needed him to. If he had been alone, he'd have been half-past panic and ready to weep from worry alone. He wished the cops or marshals or, hell, campus security, just _somebody_ , would catch the damn stalker before he could do any more damage. Hadn't Ed been through enough? Why did the universe seem to have such a serious hate for Edward Elric?


	9. Unexpected Intermission

**A/N:** Sooooooooo, um, yeah, super duper incredibly immensely indelibly sorry for the long wait. As I previously stated I was trying to finish three stories on a deadline (which was an epic fail btw, and not my fault either cuz they kept coming up with new crap to add in or making changes so I had to do rewrites cuz they got sucked into the fanfiction void and never re-emerged). I'll still post those stories when they're done, but I'm no longer on a deadline so it's whenever. Sorry, too, that this chapter is a bit shorter than previous chapters, but it felt like such a natural stopping point. Plus, I really wanted to get something posted so you guys wouldn't think I'd forgotten about you. So, we have a fun twist this go round, and tbh I've been planning on throwing this wrench in the works since the start of this story (I feel a bit villainy for it, but whatevs). fyi there's minimal hand-waviness going on with the medical crap, cuz those possible side effects are real as is the other drug info, but I fudged a very tiny portion of it for plot purposes. Also, some of the finer points of criminal justice process were sacrificed on the altar of Creative Process to be devoured by the rabid plot bunny that lives within. 'Kay, nuff of my rambling, enjoy the chapter! XD

 **Chapter 9**

 ** _Unexpected Intermission_**

Roy decided that hospital waiting rooms were specifically designed to discourage all but the most desperate from going to the hospital. The chairs were uncomfortable, the temperature was too hot right up until automatic double-doors opened to inundate them with frigid air from outside, the coffee was worse than the sludge served in the lab, and the staff who were all smile-to-your-face-as-we-tell-you-politely-to-fuck-off could be classified as vaguely creepy – like the Stepford Wives version of prison wardens. Where was the sympathy? Where was the kindness? Where was the polite service? Apparently not at the sort of hospital Ed could afford. Roy was within inches of having him moved to a better hospital on Roy's dime, Ed's pride be damned.

Al tried to keep him calm, but he was just as anxious for news as Roy. It only got worse as the waiting room slowly filled with those in dire need of news about Ed's condition. Hohenheim and Grand were the first to arrive, Grand having found a sub for both Ed and Hohenheim's classes before driving Hohenheim there himself. Grumman was the next to arrive, soon followed by Winry, Heymans, Kain, Jean, and Maes who all arrived in Al's van driven by Winry. Nobody was dumb enough to ask her how she had started the van without the keys. It was unimportant in the grander scheme of things anyway.

"Family of Edward Elric," someone finally called. Whether it had actually been hours of waiting or simply felt like it had been, Roy didn't know, he just knew that he was just as relieved as he was nervous to finally be getting some news. Everybody stood up to greet the man in the white coat who looked at the crowd of people with disbelief. "Are all of you the family of Edward Elric?"

"Yes and no," said Hohenheim smoothly. "Alphonse and I are his blood-related family, and Roy is his partner, but the rest are just as much family as the three of us. As Edward's father, I will vouch for them. Edward would want them to know."

"Very well," said the tired-looking man with a heavy sigh of defeat. "My name is Dr. Knox. I'm the attending physician in charge of Mr. Elric's care. Mr. Elric has been dosed with flunitrazepam, also known as Rohypnol. What he ingested would normally be considered a low dose, I presume because he didn't ingest the entire intended dose – no doubt the taste tipped him off. Had the drug been mixed into something with a more acidic or otherwise overwhelming flavor he may not have been so lucky. The person who laced his coffee with the drug was clearly unaware of his special circumstances."

"The missing limbs," said Al faintly as he tipped back until his father caught him. "He's missing a third of his blood volume and body mass owing to the missing limbs, and on top of that he's undersized. Even a child's dose can sometimes be too much for him. That's why he never takes medicine or drinks alcohol. He says it's too risky."

"And that's precisely the problem we've encountered," said the doctor with a grimace. "As I said, what he ingested would _normally_ be a low dose, but given the unique issues of his particular physiology, he metabolized quite a bit more than would be considered safe. Even having purged most of his stomach contents, he had already metabolized the drug by that point. With Rohypnol, by the time you feel the effects it's already too late for normal countermeasures. The effects don't begin to appear for 15-20 minutes after administering the drug."

"But how is he?" asked Roy, his anxiety having grown exponentially throughout the doctor's little speech.

"We have him stabilized, and he's resting for now," answered the doctor, and there was a collective sigh of relief. "We'd prefer to keep him here under observation until we can be sure that he's no longer under the influence of the drug. The effects last between 4-6 hours, but can have residual effects up to 12 hours after administration."

"Wait you said 'for now'," interjected Al, eyes narrowing. "You said you have him stabilized _for now_. What went wrong?"

"As I said, given the unique characteristics of Mr. Elric's physiology, the dose he metabolized was very high. He exhibited the respiratory depression common to victims of an overdose," explained the doctor, and just like that the relief of a moment before had been banished. "We were lucky in that we caught it before he could slip into a coma. We're treated him with a benzodiazepine receptor antagonist and were able to counter the drug, but for the rest there is no choice but to monitor him and let the remainder of the drug run its course. We're confident he won't have any more breathing problems, but we have him on oxygen just to be safe."

"When can we see him?" asked Al.

"Well, he should hopefully wake up in the next hour, maybe three hours at the most. I would prefer not have more than two people visiting him at a time, though it would likely be best to have someone with him until he wakes so that he has a familiar face to wake up to. I read in his records that he has a tendency to become combative when he wakes up in a hospital."

"That's one way to put it," muttered Al. "Roy, why don't you go sit with him. I want to go coordinate with Murry and Roach to see if they've found anything. They're supposed to be canvassing the campus to see if anybody saw how the drug found its way into Ed's coffee."

"And I left instructions with my secretary to give them any access they may need, including a copy of the security footage for the lecture hall," added Grand. "It's probably best if I return to the campus as well."

"Dad, will you be joining us?" asked Al.

"It would probably be best," said Hohenheim with a soft sigh. "I can, at the very least, help to cover Edward's classes and explain things to his professors so this incident doesn't affect his grades."

"We should head back too. Ed's not going to be up for visitors for a while anyway," said Winry, leaning against Al's shoulder, the two of giving and receiving comfort.

"I'll send out a group text the minute he wakes up," Roy told them.

"Thanks, Roy," said Al with a tired but warm smile. "Do you need anything? I wouldn't mind grabbing you some real coffee or a bite to eat or something."

"Would you mind grabbing my backpack out of my car?" requested Roy. "I can get some studying in while I wait. And some real coffee would be seriously fantastic right about now. This crap could dissolve the lab coffee and probably the cup it came in."

As soon as Roy had his homework and blessedly non-toxic coffee, he made his way to Ed's room. When he reached the room, however, he could only stand in the doorway, the breath freezing in his lungs as he stared at Ed whose normally gold-tinted skin was nearly as pale as the white sheets he lay on. Roy knew, logically, that Ed was only sleeping, but he couldn't keep away the unwanted thought that Ed looked more like he was dead than in repose. It made tears sting his eyes to even imagine it. The thought propelled him across the room so that he could touch Ed, hear the sound of his breathing, feel the warmth of his skin, assure himself that his lover was very much alive. He took up Ed's hand and put it to his lips, and stood there for a long moment simply breathing in Ed's scent and feeling Ed's slow pulse against his fingertips.

Once he'd finally eased his fear, Roy dropped his backpack against the wall and dragged the room's only chair up to the bed. He settled himself in for the long wait, spending the time reviewing his class notes and the study guides Ed had made for him. Ed had a way of simplifying the material that made studying for tests infinitely easier, so Roy was eternally grateful for his lover's excellent teaching skills. Roy was certain that if he actually aced his finals this time around, it would be entirely thanks to Ed's incomparable assistance. There were certainly perks to having a genius for a lover.

Even as he focused on his studies, Roy's gaze was inexorably drawn to Ed's silent form over and over again. He hated seeing Ed like this, so silent, so still. He seemed smaller somehow, diminished by his unnatural sleep. Usually, Ed was always moving, always making noise of some sort. He was so vibrant and larger than life that it was easy to forget that, more often than not, he was the shortest man in the room. His confidence and never-say-die attitude gave an impression of impossible height and breadth, while his sharp mind, indomitable compassion, and ready wit gave an impression of impossible to plum depths. Ed was contrary and kind and so bright, but now . . . he had become something small and vulnerable and in need of protection, and Roy wasn't sure how to go about keeping him safe.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he was suddenly dragged out of his dark musing by a soft knock on the door. Detective Roach entered the room cautiously, his gaze snagged by Edward and seemingly unable to pull away. Roy cleared his throat, startling Roach and drawing his attention. "He's still out," Roy told him, not sure why he was whispering, but for some reason unwilling to speak any louder. "I'm not sure how much longer he'll be asleep, but I'm pretty sure even when he wakes up, he'll be out of it for a while."

"Actually, I just came to check on you guys," said Roach, looking weary and worried. "I've got good news and bad news . . . or really, it's all the same piece of news, but it's both good and bad at the same time . . ."

Roy lifted a hand to cut off his rambling. "Just tell me."

"We caught Booker," he said simply, and Roy blinked at him for a moment. "Yes, I know that sounds like the best news possible, but that's where you'd be wrong. You see, he was picked up early this morning, not long after we picked up the bouquet from your house. As soon as the unit that picked him up figured out who they had, they called us to take him off their hands. Then we got the call about this . . . the thing is, Booker was in holding during the time the drugs would have been slipped into Ed's coffee." The implications of what Roach had just said rolled over Roy with all the weight and force of a freight train. He could only stare at the detective, no clue what to say or even how to make his mouth work at all. "Yeah, we feel exactly the same about it. So, here's where it gets really weird. When we questioned Booker, he told us that the reason he broke out of prison was because somebody had come to him asking all sorts of questions about Edward. It spooked him, and he thought that he was the only one who could protect Ed, so he broke out of jail to do exactly that."

"In other words, we have no idea who's really after Ed or what they're capable of," said Roy faintly, feeling dizzy and powerless and terrified of what might happen next. "Have you told Al and Hohenheim yet?"

"Not yet," answered Roach with a heavy sigh. "Murry is going to tell them. I came here so I could tell you and Ed. I'd thought he'd at least be awake by now, or closer to it."

"There were some complications, a bad reaction to the Rohypnol," Roy explained to him. "The dose was too high. It would have been fine for anybody else, but Ed's missing limbs means his body mass and blood volume are reduced. He pretty much OD'd." Roy looked up at the clock. He was surprised by how little time had actually passed. It had certainly felt longer. "He should be awake any minute now, though. The doctor said three more hours at most, and it's been a little over two, I think."

"I'll scare myself up some coffee then," said Roach, heading for the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Almost as soon as Roach left, Roy heard a quiet groan from the bed. He swung his head around so fast he heard his neck pop. Ed's face scrunched up as he struggled to wake, letting out another soft groan. Roy rushed over to the side of the bed and took up Ed's flesh hand, letting him know he wasn't alone. "Hey, love, let me see those gorgeous eyes," Roy encouraged him, keeping his voice as gentle and calm as possible, even though his heart was beating a mile a minute in anticipation. "Come on, Ed, open 'em up for me." Ed's eyes opened a crack, a slim sliver of gold peeking out. "There you are. Hey beautiful, how are you feeling?"

"Roy?" croaked Ed.

"The one and only," said Roy, one hand stroking the hair away from Ed's face.

"I had this horrible dream that Al made me drink nasty cow juice," slurred Ed, and Roy laughed. He just couldn't help it. He was giddy with relief and amused that Ed's first words would be a complaint about the milk.

"I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but that really happened," Roy told him, and Ed squinted up at him with a groggy yet betrayed look.

"That little shit," grumbled Edward.

"I need to go let the doctor know you're awake, all right?" said Roy, though, really, the last thing he wanted to do was leave Ed's side, even for a second. "I'll be right outside, and I won't be gone a minute."

"Am I in a hospital?" asked Ed, his eyes suddenly opening wide only to close again in a wince. "Never mind. Too tired to be alarmed. I'mma stick with vaguely concerned until after I get some coffee."

"I'll see what I can do," promised Roy, chuckling as he headed out the door. He went straight to the nurse's station and asked the bored scrubs-clad lady behind the desk to call the doctor and let him know Ed was awake. Even as Roy headed back to Ed's room, he was already sending out a group text to everybody who mattered to notify them as well, promising an update on Ed's condition after speaking with the doctor.

Roach texted back, asking if he should bring Ed some coffee too, making Roy laugh again. Ed frowned at him, probably wondering what was so funny. "It's a little creepy how well those detectives know you by now," Roy told him, earning a golden eyebrow arched in inquiry. "Roach came by to talk to you. He went to grab himself some coffee while he waited, and as soon as I sent out the text to tell everybody you're back in the land of the living, first thing Roach asks is if you need coffee." Ed laughed weakly, just as amused as Roy. "Next thing you know we're going to be inviting them over for dinner on the weekends."

"We already do that," said Ed, making a face.

"Good point."

"Hello, Mr. Elric," said the doctor as he swept into the room. "I wish I could say that it's good to see you again, but you and I both know better. Luckily for the both of us, you won't be here much longer. I just need to have a listen to your lungs to determine if it's safe to take you off of the oxygen."

"What was it I got doped up with?" asked Ed, sounding slightly more aware.

"Rohypnol, but there was an additive we haven't been able to identify yet. The lab managed to isolate the additive using the mass spectrometer, and they're investigating it now. As for the Rohypnol, you were given a dose that far exceeded what would be considered safe."

"Enough to cause respiratory distress?" interrupted Ed absently, and Roy could see that Ed was already in full scientist mode, examining the incident and its results like he would an experiment in the lab. "That means that whoever dosed me either didn't know about my prosthesis or didn't have enough medical knowledge to calculate the dosage correctly. The presence of the additive suggests either knowledge of chemistry or access to someone with a background in chemistry."

"I'll leave the who and how to you and the police, Mr. Elric," said the doctor as he approached the bed. "If your breathing has made significant enough improvement to take you off oxygen, I'll be able to discharge you. I'd prefer you stay here under observation, but I know better than to try that. You'll just leave AMA if I do. You've got a bit of a reputation around here for leaving AMA even when you very obviously shouldn't even be out of bed. The last thing we need is you climbing out of window again."

"Ha, yeah, I remember that," laughed Ed. "Tore my stitches, but it wasn't too bad. I replaced them when I got to my lab."

"I noticed some crossed out swear words in come of the Dr.'s comments in your records, and now I know why," said the doctor with a sigh, and Ed laughed again, Roy turning his head as he snickered. "So, like I said, I'll release you, if only to save you from your own stubbornness. However, I caution you strongly against operating a motor vehicle or any other heavy machinery for the next 24 hours while the traces of the drug work their way out of your system. I would also advise against strenuous activity during that time. I'd like you to return if you continue to feel sluggish or suffer from dizzy spells or other symptoms beyond the 24 hours. Until we know what you were given, we honestly can't predict how you will react, so it's best to be wary. Do you have someone who can monitor you for the next few days until we can be sure you're in the clear?"

"We live together. I can keep an eye on him," said Roy right away.

"Good, now, if you could try to sit up for me please," requested the doctor. The doctor listened to Ed's heart and breathing then settled the stethoscope around his neck once more. He asked Ed a battery of questions, not only about he felt but also to test his memory and cognitive function. When he was finally satisfied, he picked up Ed's chart again and began scribbling some notes. "All right, you still sound a little wheezy, but not enough to be alarming, and memory and speech don't seem to be impaired. The delay in reflexes on your automail limbs is something you might want to discuss with your mechanic as soon as you get home to determine if there's a problem with the interface or if it's simply a side effect of the drug. I'll release you for the time being, however, if you find yourself struggling to breathe even while at rest or after only minimal activity, I want you to return to ER immediately." He turned to Roy next. "Also, bring him back immediately if you can't wake him and he doesn't respond to painful stimuli – a simple pinprick to toe should suffice for a test." Roy nodded solemnly, so the doctor returned his attention to Ed. "Otherwise, follow-up with your primary care physician in two days to recheck your breathing and other symptoms. I'll go get your discharge instructions and paperwork."

Roach walked in just as the doctor was walking out, already extending cups of coffee toward Ed and Roy, each of them taking a cup with their name on it. Roach took a sip from his own coffee and grimaced dramatically – it really was a special kind of gross, the kind reserved for snail trails and raw sewage. Ed, bless his coffee-guzzling soul, barely batted an eyelash at the flavor of the disgusting brew, letting out a happy sigh as soon as the first sip of caffeinated beverage made its way down his throat. As long as Ed had caffeine all was right with the world as far as he was concerned. Roy could only chuckle and shake his head to himself. Ed was really something else.

"Well, I've got good news and god-awful news. Which do you want first?" asked Roach grimly.

"I'll take good news for $300 Alex," replied Ed in his best game show contestant impression.

"We caught Booker," Roach said bluntly.

"Are you fucking kidding?! That's, like, the best news in the history of ever!" enthused Ed ecstatically. But then the light of his celebration dimmed when he noticed he was the only one happy about it. "Oh shit, what's the god-awful news? Did he get away again or . . .?"

"He's not the one who drugged you," answered Roach with a heavy sigh. "Given the time of his arrest, there's no way he could have done it. But wait, it gets worse." Roach sighed again and took another sip of disgusting coffee. Ed visibly braced himself, Roy quickly crowding into his space and wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend. "Booker says the reason he escaped was because somebody came to him asking questions about you, and some of the things this person said led Booker to believe you might be in danger. The fact that you were given a date rape drug in broad daylight is reason enough for us to consider that this might not be the rantings of nutjob."

"Shit," hissed Ed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. "Shit, that's why they were watching me instead of looking around me for signs of Booker. They were looking for the bigger fish."

"What do you mean?" asked Roach.

"Those assholes, the marshals, they were watching me at the diner, and they didn't seem to notice that Booker was watching me too, like they weren't really paying attention. We gave them a ration of shit for it, too. But what if they _were_ paying attention, just not looking for what we thought they were looking for. But they never said a word to indicate they were there to look for anybody but Booker. So what I told them about informing the victim still holds. What they're doing is illegal, regardless of if they were doing what I think they were doing or not. You can't just dangle hapless citizens as bate without permission or prior notification or whatever," rambled Ed, his eyes wide and unblinking and a little bit wild, an open display of his mounting panic. "Maybe that's not what they're doing at all. All I have is theories and no real evidence to back any of it up. For that matter is there even really any evidence to back up the nutjob's claims that I'm in danger? He's delusional, after all. And what sort of danger are we talking about? Death, maiming, enslavement, tax auditing?"

"Woah, now, slow down, Elric," said Roach, holding a hand up in a placating gesture. Ed looked like he wanted to bite it on principle. "We had the same questions as you. That's why we got security footage from the prison of the day that Booker said someone came to see him. It happened just like he said it did. On top of that, Booker said that somebody has been following you. We were able to use traffic cameras and ATM cameras and shit like that to confirm it. The same guy who talked to Booker in prison has been following you around. And this dude's got skills, like para-military type skills. He planted a camera in your office and the lecture halls and classrooms where you usually teach, but apparently he got flummoxed by whatever weird security shit you've got set up at the house. We managed to pull a partial print off of the lens on one of his cameras and ran it through AFIS. Fat lot of good that did! Fucker's info is almost entirely redacted by another fucking agency.

"This is where it really gets into the good news/bad news thing. So, we managed to pick this guy up outside of the hospital – and let me tell you, subduing him was a serious bitch, and I've got the bruises to prove it. Hell, even Murry's got a black eye for his trouble. But Booker was right, this guy is small fish. He's obviously a hired thug. I mean, everything about this guy screams 'I'm an evil mercenary henchman'. Problem is, the guy ain't talking. He won't even tell us his name let alone who the fuck he works for. Meanwhile, the marshals are harassing us to release both prisoners into their custody, but they're being super douches, so my boss is doing that thing he does where he basically tells you to fuck off, but he does it so politely that you can't fight back. Elric, this is a real shit storm you've landed us in."

"Well, shit," breathed Ed, running a hand through his hair. It was then that Roy realized that Ed hadn't blinked a single once during the entire explanation – a clear sign of stress if not shock.

"Ed, you might want to take a deep breath and let it out real slow," Roy told him, running a hand slowly up and down the tense line of Ed's back. Ed took in a long, slightly shaky breath and let it out slowly then took another, finally blinking as his back released at least a fraction of its tension.

"What the fuck am I supposed with this shit, Roy?" demanded Ed, his words painted in dread and confusion. "I don't know shit about my enemy. I don't know who they are or what they want or how far they're willing to go to get what they want. I don't know how many people they have working for them or what their skills are. I've got nothing to go on here, and I have no idea how to fill in any of these blanks."

"I think our first step is to take you home," said Roy, keeping his voice calm and soothing. "After that we get everybody together at the house. We can do a bit of brainstorming, see if we can't at least come up with some solid theories. Then I think we need to up our game for security measures, start getting downright paranoid. And not just about protecting ourselves, but also anything we might be working on. You said it before. We're scientists working for a prestigious institution, many of us with corporate or military backing. We need to be more aware of that fact. Maybe we can even start looking into anyone that might have an interest in your work or any projects you might have direct access to. Maybe somebody got pissed about something you worked on before for some reason. You know scientists are all secretly a bunch of jealous little divas. It's not hard to imagine somebody getting their panties in a bunch because you beat them to some brilliant discovery or something. For now, all we can really do is take things one day at a time and keep an eye out for clues. Nobody's perfect, and this bastard, whoever he or she is, will slip up eventually."

"All right, yeah, we can do that," said Ed, though he didn't sound entirely certain. He was probably wondering what would happen if their team slipped up before the enemy did. Roy was worrying about that himself, but he was also trying not to dwell on worst case scenarios just yet. For now, Ed was alive and well . . . all right, not _well_ , but getting better at least. Things may look bleak, but they weren't hopeless yet.

"We still have plenty of resources that we haven't even begun to tap yet," Roy reassured Ed gently, wrapping his arms around his lover and silently willing him to have a little faith. "We'll get through this, one way or another."


End file.
